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C.  X.  S.  C.  1Require^  literature  for  1802»d3. 

Grecian  History.     J.  R.  Joy. Jl.OO 

Callias,  an  Historical  Romance.  A.  J.  Church.  1.00 
Classic  Greek  Course  in  English.  W.  C  Wilkinson.  1.00 
Greek  Architecture  AND  Sculpture,   'Smith  and 

Bedford. -  .50 

The  United  States  and  Foreign  Powers.     W.  E. 

Curtis.         - -        -  1.00 

A  Manual  of  Christian  Evidences.    G.  P.  Fisher.  .50 

The  Chautauquan  (12  numbers).        -       -       .       .  2.00 


Cbautauqua  Y^eading  Circle  Xiterature 

CALLIAS 

A  Tale  of  the  Fall  of  Athens 

BY 

Rev.  ALFRED  J.  CHURCH 

Professor  of  Latin  in  University  College  London 


MEADVILLE    PENNA 

FLOOD  AND  VINCENT 

Cbe  (Cbautauqua.'iiCenturp  Tfixtii 

1891 


CJ-7 


Copyright,  1891, 
By  Flood  ct  Vincent. 


The  Chautauqua-Century  Press,  Meadville,  Pa.,  IT.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped,   Printed,  and  Bound  by  Flood  <fe  "Vincent. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTKR 

PAGE 

I. 

A  New  Pl.ay 

1 

II. 

News  from  the  Fleet 

13 

III. 

HlPPOCLI-^S  THE  AlIEN 

.       19 

IV. 

A  Council 

^7 

V. 

RUNNIXG  THE  BLOCKADE 

.       37 

VI. 

Arginus^e                .      ,      . 

45 

VII. 

After  the  Fight 

.      52 

vm. 

The  News  at  Athens 

59 

IX. 

SOCKATES             .... 

.       72 

X. 

The  Murder  of  the  Generals 

79 

XI. 

Rescued            .... 

.       95 

XII. 

The  Voyage  of  the  Skvlark 

103 

XIII. 

Alcibiades       .... 

.     Ill 

XIV. 

Bisanthe     .... 

120 

XV. 

Moos  Potami 

.     129 

XVI. 

To  Pharnabazus 

138 

XVII. 

Athens  in  the  Dust 

.     145 

XVIII. 

"Noblesse  Oblige" 

157 

XIX. 

The  End  of  Alcibiades 

.  .  168 

XX. 

DiONYSIUS     .... 

178 

XXI. 

Cyrus  the  Younger 

.     189 

XXII. 

The  Retreat 

194 

XXIII. 

The  Diary       .... 

.     204 

xxrv. 

A  IThanksgiving 

218 

XXV. 

Business  and  Pleasure     . 

.     231 

XXVI. 

Invalided 

241 

XXVII. 

Back  to  Athens     ,  . 

.     251 

XXVIII. 

The  iSTORY  of  the  Trial 

263 

XXIX. 

Th,e  Last  Conversation    . 

.     27S 

XXX. 

The  Condition  of  Exile 

293 

Author's  Postscript 

.     299 

Index          .... 

802 

TJie  required  books  of  the  C.  L.  S.  C.  are  recommended  bf/  a 
Council  of  six.  It  mu^t,  however,  be  understood  that 
recommendation  does  not  involve  an  approval  hy  the 
Council,  or  by  any  member  of  it,  of  every  princijilr  or 
doctrine  contained  in  the  book  recommended. 


CALLIAS 
A  Tale  of  the  Fall  of  Athens 


CHAPTER  I. 


A   NEW   PLAY. 

It  is  the  second  year  of  the  ninety-third  Olympiad  * 
and  the  Theatre  at  Athens  is  full,  for  the  great  dramatic 
season  is  at  its  height,  and  to-day  there  is  to  be  performed 
a  new  play  by  Aristophanes,  the  special  favorite  of  the 
Athenian  public.  It  is  a  brilliant  scene,  but  a  keen  observer, 
who  happened  to  see  the  same  gathering  some  five 
and  twenty  years  ago,  must  now  notice  a  certain  fall- 
ing off  in  its  splendor.  For  these  five  and  twenty  years 
have  been  years  of  war,  and  latterly,  years  of  disaster. 
Eleven  years  ago,  the  City  wild  with  the  pride  of  power 
and  wealth,  embarked  on  the  mad  scheme  of  conquer- 
ing Sicily,  and  lost  the  finest  fleet  and  army  that  it 
ever  possessed.  Since  then  it  has  been  a  ftruggle  for  life 
with  it,  and  year  by  year  it  has. been  growing  weaker  and 
weaker.  This  has  told  sadly  on  the  glories  of  its  great  fes- 
tivals. The  furnishing  of  the  stage,  indeed,  is  as  perfect  as 
ever,  and  the  building  itself  has  been  pushed  on  several 
stages  towards  completion.        However  scarce  money  niay 

•  According  to  our  reckoning  B.  C.  406 


2  GALLIA^. 

be  In  the  public  treasury,  the  theatre  must  not  be  starved. 
But  elsewhere  there  are  manifest  signs  of  falling  off.  The 
strangers'  gallery  is  almost  empty.  AH  the  Greek  world 
from  Maasilia  in  Gaul  to  Cyrene  among  the  sands  of  Africa 
used  to  throng  it  in  happier  days.  Now  more  than  half 
that  world  is  hostile,  and  the  rest  has  little  to  hope  or  fear 
from  the  dispossessed  mistress  of  the  seas.  Dionysius  of 
Syracuse,  has  sent  an  embassy,  and  the  democracy,  which 
once  would  have  treated  with  scant  courtesy  the  repre- 
sentatives of  a  tyrant,  is  fain  to  flatter  so  powerful  a  prince. 
There  are  some  Persian  Envoys  too,  for  the  Persians  are 
still  following  their  old  game  of  playing  off  one  great  state 
against  another.  A  few  Greeks  from  Sinope  and  from  one 
of  the  Italian  cities,  persons  of  no  importance,  who  would 
hardly  have  found  a  place  in  the  gallery  during  the  palmy 
times  of  Athens,  ma^e  up  the  company  of  visitors.  Look 
at  the  body  of  the  theatre,  where  the  citizens  sit,  and  the 
spectacle  is  deplorable  indeed.  The  flower  of  Athens'  sons 
has  perished,  and  their  successors  are  puny  and  de- 
generate. Examine  too  the  crowd  that  throngs  the  benches, 
and  you  will  see  that  the  slaves,  distinguished  by  their  uu- 
sleeved  tunics,  fill  up  no  small  portion  of  space.  And  boys 
form  an  unusually  large  proportion  of  tlie  audience.  Al- 
together the  theatre  is  a  dispiriting  sight  to  a  patriotic 
Athenian. 

To-day,  however,  all  is  gaiety,  for,  as  has  been  said,  there 
is  a  new  play  to  be  brought  out,  and  an  Athenian  must  be 
in  desperate  straits  indeed,  if  he  cannot  forget  his  sorrows 
at  a  new  play. 

When  the  curtain  rises,  or  rather,  is  withdrawn,  as  the 
Greek  arrangement  was,  into  an  opening  in  the  floor  of  the 


CALL  I  AN.  a 

stage,  a  luurniur  of  recognition  runs  througli  the  audience. 
The  scene  is  tlie  market  place  of  Thebes,  and  a  familiar  fig- 
ure occupies  the  foreground. 

The  portly  figure,  the  ruddy  face,  tlie  vine-leaf  crown, 
and  the  buskins  show  him  to  be  Bacchus,  the  patron-god, 
it  will  be  remembered,  of  tlie  drama.  But  why  this  lion's 
skin  and  clul » ?  The  god  gives  a  lordly  kick  at  the  door  of 
the  house  which  was  one  of  the  familiar  stage-properties, 
and  Hercules  appears.  He  roars  with  laughter  to  see  his 
own  emblems  in  such  strange  company.  Bacchus  explains. 
"  The  tragic  jK)et  grows  worse  and  worse.  There  is  not  one 
who  can  write  a  decent  line.  I  am  going  down  to  the 
regions  of  the  dead  to  fetch  Euripides,*  and  thought  that 
I  had  better  dress  myself  up  in  your  fashion,  for  you,  I 
know,  made  this  same  journey  very  successfully.  Perhaps 
you  will  tell  me  something  about  the  way,  and  what  inns 
you  can  recommend,  where  they  are  free  from  fleas,  you 
know." 

"Are  you  really  going?  " 

"Yes,  yes.  Don't  try  to  dissuade  m.e;  but  teil  me  the 
way,  which  must  not  be  either  too  hot  or  too  cold." 

"Well  there  is  the  Hanging  way,  by  the  sign  of  the  Kope 
and  Noose." 

"Too  stifling." 

"  There  is  a  very  short  cut  by  the  Mortar  and  Pestle." 

"  The  Hemlock  road,  you  mean  ?  " 

"Exactly  so." 

"  Too  cold  and  wintry  for  me." 

"Well ;  I'll  tell  you  of  a  quick  road  and  all  downhill." 

"  Excellent !  for  I  am  not  a  good  walker." 

"  You  know  the  tower  in  the  Cemeterj'?    Well,  climb  up 

*  Euripides  had  died  a  few  months  before. 


•i  CALLIAiS. 

to  the  top  when  the  Torch  race  is  going  to  begin;  and  when 
the  people  cry  out  'start,'  start  yourself." 

"  How  do  you  mean  '  start '  ?    Start  from  where?  " 

"  Why,  start  down  from  the  top." 

"  What,  and  dash  my  brains  out?  No,  not  for  me,  thank 
you." 

So  it  is  settled  that  Bacchus  and  his  slave,  for  he  has  a 
slave  with  him  to  carry  his  baggage,  shall  take  the  usual 
route  by  the  Styx. 

To  the  Styx,  accordingly,  they  make  their  way.  Charon 
the  ferryman  is  plying  for  hire,  "  Any  one  for  Rest-from- 
toil-and-labor  Land?  For  No-Mansland?  For  the  Isle 
of  Dogs?  t" 

Bacchus  steps  in,  and  by  Charon's  order,  takes  an  oar 
which  he  handles  very  helplessly.  The  slave  has  to  go 
round:  Charon  does  not  carry  slaves,  he  says.  As  they 
slowly  make  their  way  across,  the  frogs  from  the  marsh  raise 
the  song  of  their  kind,  ending  with  the  burden  which  is 
supposed  to  represent  their  note,  Brekekekex,  coax,  coax. 

It  is  pitch  dark  on  the  further  side.  When  the  slave 
turns  up,  he  advises  his  master  to  go  on  at  once.  "  '  Tis  the 
very  spot,"  he  says,  "  where  Hercules  told  us  those  terrible 
wild  beasts  were."     Bacchus  is  very  valiant. 

"  A  curse  upon  him ! '  twas  an  idle  tale 
He  feigned  to  frighten  me,  for  well  he  knew, 
How  brave  1  am,  the  envious  braggart  soul ! 
Grant,  fortune,  I  may  meet  some  perilous  chance 
Meet  for  so  bold  a  journey." 

"  O  Master,  I  hear  a  noise." 

"Where,  where?" 

"U  is  behind  us." 
^  rfoT  the  "Crows  "in  the  original.    "Going  to  the  crows  '  was  the 
first  equivalent  for  our  "  Going  to  the  dogs."    The  "  Isle  of  Dobs  "tea, 
wellknown  spot  near  Ix)ndon. 


CALLIAS.  5c 

"  Get  behind  then." 

* '  No — it  is  in  front. ' ' 

"  Why  don't  you  go  in  front?  " 

"  O  Master,  I  see  such  a  Monster." 

"  What  is  it  Uke  ?  " 

"  Why  !  it  keeps  on  changing — now  it's  a  bull,  now  it's  a 
stag,  and  now  it's  a  woman;  and  its  face  is  all  fire.  What 
shall  we  do?    O  Hercules,  Hercules  help." 

"  Hold  your  tongue.     Don't  call  me  Hercules." 

"Bacchus,  then." 

"No,  no;  Bacchus  is  worse  than  Hercules." 

The  travellers  pass  these  dangers,  and  reach  the  palace 
of  Pluto.  Bacchus  knocks  at  the  door.  "Who's  there?" 
cries  ^acus  the  porter.  "The  valiant  Hercules,"  says 
Bacchus.  The  name  calls  forth  a  torrent  of  reproaches,  and 
threats.    Hercules  was  only  too  well  remembered  there. 

O  villain,  vjUain,  doubly,  trebly  dyed ! 
'  Twas  thou  didst  talse  our  dog,  our  guardian  dog, 
Sweet  Cerberus,  my  charge.    But,  villain,  now 
We  have  thee  on  the  hip.    For  thee  the  roclis 
Of  Styx,  and  Acheron's  dripping  well  of  blood. 
And  Hell's  swift  hounds  encompass." 

"  Did  you  hear  that  dreadful  voice  ?  "  says  Bacchus  to  the 
slave.     "  Didn't  it  frighten  you  ?  " 

"  Frighten  me  ?    No,  I  didn't  give  it  a  thought." 

"  Well,  you  are  a  bold  fellow.  I  say;  suppose  you  become 
me,  and  I  become  you.  Take  the  club  and  the  lion  skin, 
and  I'll  carry  the  baggage." 

"As  you  please." 

They  change  parts  accordingly.  No  sooner  is  this  done, 
than  a  waiting  maid  of  Queen  Proserpine  appears.  "  My 
dear  Hercules,"  she  say^,"  come  with  tae.  As  soon  as  mj; 
mistress  heard  of  your  being  here  she  had  a  grand  baking, 


e  CAL,LIAS. 

made  four  or  five  gallons  of  soup,  and  roasted  an  ox  whole." 

**  Excellent,"  cries  the  false  Hercules. 

"  She  won't  take  a  refusal.  And,  hark  you  !  there's  stuih 
wine!" 

"  I  shall  be  delighted.  Boy,  bring  along  the  baggage 
with  you." 

"  Hold,"  cries  the  "  boy."  "  Don't  you  .see  it  was  a  joke 
of  mine,  dressing  you  up  as  Hercules  ?  Come,  hand  over 
the  club  and  the  skin." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  take  the  things  away  when  you 
gave  me  them  yourself." 

"  Yes,  but  I  am:  a  pretty  Hercules  you  would  be.  Ck>me, 
hand  them  over." 

"Well;  if  I  must,  I  must.  But  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you 
were  sorry  for  it  sooner  or  later." 

It  turns  out  to  be  sooner  rather  than  later.  As  soon  as 
the  exchange  is  made,  two  landladies  appear  on  the  scene. 
Hercules  had  committed  other  misdemeanors  besides 
stealing  the  dog. 

First  Landlady.  "This  is  the  villain.  He  came  to  my 
house,  and  ate  sixteen  loaves." 

The  Slave  (aside).    "  Some  one  is  getting  into  trouble." 

Mrst  Landlady.  "  Yes,  and  twenty  fried  cutlets  at  three 
half-pence  apiece." 

The  Slave  (aside).    "Some  one  will  suflTer  for  this." 

First  Landlady.   "  Yes,  and  any  quantity  of  garlic." 

Bacchus.  "Woman  this  is  all  rubbish.  I  don't  know 
what  you  are  talking  about." 

Mrst  Landlady.  "  Ah !  you  villain,  because  you  have 
buskins  on,  you  thought  I  should  not  know  you— and  then 
4iiere  was  the  salt-fish." 

Second  Landlady.  "  Yes,  and  the  fresh  cheeses  which  he 
ate,  baskets  and  all;  and  when  T  asked  him  for  the  money 


CALLIAH.  7 

he  drew  his  sword,  and  we  rau  up,  you  remember,  into  the 
attic." 

The  Slave.  "  That  is  just  the  man.  That's  how  he  goes 
on  everywhere." 

The  angry  women  run  otT  to  fetch  their  lawyers;  and 
Bacchus  begins  again. 

"iVIy  dear  boy,  I  am  very  fond  of  you." 

"  I  know  what  you  are  after.  Say  no  more;  I'm  not  going 
to  be  Hercules ;  '  A  pretty  Hercules  I  should  make, '  you  say. ' ' 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  you're  angry.  But  do  take  the 
things  again.  The  gods  destroy  me  and  mine,  root  and 
branch,  if  I  rob  you  of  them  again." 

"Very  well;  I'll  take  them,  but  mind,  you  have  sworn." 

So  the  exchange  is  made  again. 

Then  ^acus  witlj  his  infernal  policemen  appears  on  the 
scene. 

"  That's  the  fellow  who  stole  the  dog,'*  he  cries  to  his 
men,  "seize  him,"  while  the  false  slave  murmurs  aside, 
"  Some  one  is  getting  into  trouble." 

*'I  steal  your  dog!"  says  the  false  Hercules.  "I  have 
never  been  here,  much  less  stolen  the  worth  of  a  cent.  But 
come.  I'll  make  you  a  fair  offer.  Here's  my  slave.  Take 
him,  and  put  him  to  the  torture,  and  if  you  get  anything 
out  of  him  against  me,  then  cut  my  head  off.  " 

"  Very  fair,"  says  iEJacus;  "  and  of  course,  if  I  do  him  any 
damage,  I  shall  pay  for  it." 

"  Never  mind  about  the  damage;  torture  away." 

"  Hold,"  shouts  Bacchus,  as  the  poUcemen  lay  hold  of 
him,  "  I  warn  you  not  to  torture  me,  I'm  a  god." 

^EoGtm.   "  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

jBacchus.  "I  am  Bacchus,  son  of  ZeoB,  and  that  fellow 
there  is  my  slave." 


8  CALLIAS. 

JEacm  (to  the  false  Bacchus)  "What  do  you  say  to  that?" 
The  false  Bacchus.  *'  Say  ?  Lay  on  the  lash;  if  he's  a  god, 
of  course  he  can't  feel." 

Bacchus.  "And  you're  a  god  too,  you  say.  So  you  won't 
mind  taking  blow  for  blow  with  me." 

Thefalse Bacchus.  "Quite right."  (To^acus) "  Layon,and 
thefir8tthatcriesout,youmay  besure  he's  not  the  real  god." 

So  the  trial  takes  place.  Both  bear  it  bravely,  till  at  last 
.Slacus  cries  in  perplexity.  "  I  can't  make  it  out.  I  don't 
know  which  is  which.  Well,  you  shall  both  come  to  my 
master  and  Queen  Proserpine.  They're  gods,  and  they 
ought  to  know  their  own  kind." 

Bacchus.  "  An  excellent  idea;  I  only  wish  that  you  had 
thought  of  it  before  you  g'ave  me  that  beating." 

Things  are  now  supposed  to  be  set  right.  Bacchus  goes 
to  dine  with  Pluto  and  Proserpine;  the  slave  is  entertained 
by  iEacus  in  the  servants'  hall.  While  they  are  talking  a 
tremendous  uproar  is  heard  outside;  and  ^acus  explains  to 
his  guest  that  it  is  a  rule  in  their  country  that  the  best  poet 
or  writer  or  artist  should  have  a  seat  at  the  King's  table  and 
a  place  at  the  King's  right  hand.  This  honor  JEschylus 
had  held  as  the  first  of  the  tragic  poets,  but  when  Euripides 
came,  all  the  crowd  of  pick-pockets  and  burglars  and 
murderers,  who  were  pretty  numerous  in  these  parts,  had 
been  so  delighted  with  his  twists  and  turns,  that  they  were 
for  giving  him  the  first  place;  and  on  the  strength  of  their 
support  he  had  claimed  the  tragic  throne." 

"  But  had  not  .^schylus  any  friends  ?  " 

"  O  yes,  among  the  respectable  people;  but  respectable 
people  are  scarce  down  here,  as  they  are  up  above." 

"  What  about  Sophocles  ?  " 

"  Oh !  as  soon  as  he  came,  he  went  up  to  .^Ischylus  and 


CALLIA8.  9 

kissed  him  on  the  cheek,  and  took  him  by  the  Iiand.  He 
yielded  the  throne,  he  said,  to  .^schylus;  but  if  Euripides 
came  oflfbest,  he  should  contest  it  with  him." 

"  Welljwhat  is  going  to  be  done  ?  " 

"There  will  be  a  trial." 

"  Who  is  to  be  judge  ? ' ' 

"  Ah !  there's  the  difficulty.  Wise  men,  you  see,  are  not 
BO  plenty.  Even  with  the  Athenians  ..Eschylus  didn't  get 
on  very  well.  However  they  have  made  your  master  judge. 
He  is  supposed  to  know  all  about  it." 

I  have  tried  to  give  some  idea  of  the  first,  the  farcical  half 
of  the  play.  It  is  possible  to  appreciate  the  fun,  though 
much  of  its  flavor  has  evaporated,  and  there  are  many 
strokes  of  humor  which,  for  one  reason  or  another,  it  has 
not  been  possible  to  reproduce.  The  second  half  is  a  series 
of  subtle  literary  criticisms  on  the  language,  style,  dramatic 
construction,  and  ruling  sentiment  of  the  two  poets.  No 
one  can  appreciate  it  who  is  not  familiar  with  their  works; 
no  version  is  possible  that  would  give  any  that  idea  of  it. 
One  specimen  I  shall  attempt,  ^schylus  finds  fault  with 
the  prosaic  matter-of-fact  character  of  his  rival's  opening 
scenes.  *'  I'll  spoil  them  all  with  a  flask,"  he  says.  "  Go 
on  and  repeat  whichever  you  please."  Euripides  begins 
with  the  opening  lines  of  the  Danaides  (a  play  now  lost). 

"  Aegyptus— so  the  common  story  runs- 
Crossed  with  his  fifty  sons  the  ocean  plains. 
And  reaching  Argos  —  " 

'  "  Lost  a  little  flask." 

puts  in  ^schylus. 

He  begins  again  with  the  opening  lines  of  another 

"  Cadmus,  Agenor's  oflfbpring,  setting  sail 
From  Sidon's  city  —  " 

"  Lost  &  little  flask." 


10  CALLIAS. 

Then  he  tries  with  the  first  lines  of  a  third 

"  Great  Bacchus,  who  with  wand  and  fown-skin  decked, 
1 11  pine-groves  of  Parnassus,  piles  the  dance, 
And  leads  the  revel —  " 

"  Lost  a  little  flask." 

The  reader  may  have  had  enough.     It  will  suflSce  to  give 
the  result  of  the  contest.    All  the  tests  have  been  applied. 
Euripides,  as  a  last  resource,  reminds  the  judge  that  he  has 
sworn  to  take  him  back  with  him. 
Bacchus  replies: 

"  My  tongue  hath  sworn;  yet  ^schylus  I  choose." 
A  cruel  cut,  for  it  is  an  adaptation  of  one  of  the  poet's  own 
lines  (from  the  Hippolytus)  when  the  hero,  taunted  with 
the  oath  that  he  had  taken  and  is  about  to  violate,  replies: 
**  My  tongue  hath  sworn  it,  but  my  mind's  unsworn." 
When  the  curtain  rose  from  the  floor  and  hid  the  last 
scene,  it  was  manifest  that  the  "Frogs"  of  Aristophanes, 
son  of  Philippus,  of  the  tribe  Pandionis,  and  the  township 
Cydathenaea,  was  a  success.  Of  course  there  were  malcon- 
tents among  the  audience.  Euripides  had  a  good  many 
partisans  in  young  Athens.  They  admired  his  ingenuity, 
his  rhetoric,  and  the  artistic  quality  of  his  verse,  in  which 
beauty  for  beauty's  sake,  quite  apart  from  any  moral  pur- 
pose, seemed  to  be  aimed  at.  They  were  captivated  by  the 
boldness  and  novelty  of  his  treatment  of  things  moral  and 
religious,  ^schylus  they  considered  to  be  old-fashioned 
and  bigoted.  Hence  among  the  seats  allotted  to  the  young 
men  there  had  been  some  murmurs  of  dissent  while  the 
performance  was  going  on,  and  now  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  adverse  criticism.  And  there  were  some  among  the  older 
men  who  were  scarcely  satisfied.  The  fact  was  that  Comedy 
was  undergoing  a  change,  the  change  which  before  twenty 


CALLIA.S.  11 

more  years  had  passed  was  to  turn  the  Old  Comedy  into 
the  Middle  and  the  New,  or  to  put  the  matter  briefly,  to 
change  the  Comedy  of  Politics  into  the  Comedy  of  Manners. 

"This  is  poor  stuff,"  said  an  old  aristocrat  of  this  school, 
"  poor  stuff  indeed,  after  what  I  rememiber  in  my  younger 
days.  Why  can't  the  man  leave  Euripides  alone,  especially 
now  he  is  dead,  and  won't  bother  us  with  any  more  of  his 
plays  ?  There  are  plenty  of  scoundrel  politicians  who  might 
to  much  more  purpose  come  in  for  a  few  strokes  of  the  lash. 
But  he  daren't  touch  the  fellows.  Ah  !  it  was  not  always 
so.  I  remember  the  play  he  brought  out  eighteen  years 
ago.  The  '  Knights '  he  called  it.  That  was  something 
like  a  Comedy  !  Cleon  was  at  the  very  height  of  his  power, 
for  he  had  just  made  that  lucky  stroke  at  Pylos  *.  But 
Aristophanes  did  not  spare  him  one  bit  for  that.  He  could 
not  get  anyone  to  take  the  part;  he  could  not  even  get  a 
mask  made  to  imitate  the  great  man's  face.  So  he  took  the 
part  himself,  and  smeared  his  face  with  the  lees  of  wine. 
Cleon  was  there  in  the  magistrates'  seats.  I  think  we  all 
looked  at  him  as  much  as  we  looked  at  the  stage.  When- 
ever there  was  a  hard  hit — and,  by  Bacchus,  how  hard  the 
hits  were  ! — all  the  theatre  turned  to  see  how  he  bore  it.  He 
laughed  at  first.  Then  we  saw  him  turn  red  and  pale — I 
was  close  by  him  and  I  heard  him  grind  his  teeth.  Good 
heavens  !  what  a  rage  he  was  in  !  Well,  that  is  the  sort  of  a 
play  I  like  to  see,  not  this  splitting  words,  and  picking 
verses  to  pieces,  just  as  some  schoolmaster  might  do." 

But,  in  spite  of  these  criticisms,  the  greater  part  of  the 
audience  were  highly  delighted  with  what  they  had  seen 
and  heard.  The  comic  business,  with  its  broad  and  laugh- 
able effects,  pleased  them,  and  they  were  flattered  by  being 

•  When  he  captured  the  Spartan  garrison  of  the  Island  of  Sphacteria. 
B.  C.  425. 


12  GALLIA'S. 

treated  as  judges  of  literary  questions.  And  tlie  curious 
thing  was  that  they  were  not  unfit  to  be  judges  of  such 
matters.  There  never  was  such  a  well-educated  and  keen- 
witted audience  in  the  world.  They  knew  it,  and  they 
dearly  liked  to  be  treated  accordingly.  The  judges  only 
echoed  the  popular  voice  when  at  the  end  of  the  festival 
they  bestowed  the  first  prize  upon  Aristophanes. 

One  criticism,  strange  to  say,  no  one  ever  thought  of  mak- 
ing— ^and  yet,  to  us,  it  seems  the  first,  the  most  obvious  of 
all  criticisms,  and  that  is  that  the  play  was  horribly  pro- 
fane. This  cowardly,  drunken,  sensual  Bacchus — and  he  is 
ten  times  worse  in  the  original  than  I  have  ventured  to 
make  him  here — this  despicable  wretch  was  one  of  the  gods 
whom  everyone  in  the  audience  was  supposed  to*  worship. 
The  festival  which  was  the  occasion  of  the  theatrical  exhi- 
bition was  held  in  his  honor,  his  altar  was  the  centre 
round  which  the  whole  action  of  every  piece  revolved. 
And  yet  he  was  caricatured  in  this  audacious  manner,  and 
it  did  not  occur  to  anyone  to  object !  Verily  the  religion  of 
the  Greeks  sat  very  lightly  on  their  consciences,  and  we 
cannot  wonder  if  it  had  but  small  effect  on  their  lives. 


CHAPTER  II. 

XEWS  FROM  THE    FLEET. 

I  AXTiCTPATED  the  course  of  my  story  when  I  spoke  of  the 
lirst  prize  being  adjudged  to  the  comedy  exhibited  by 
Aristophanes.  There  were  various  competing  plays — how 
many  we  do  not  know,  but  the  titles  and  authors  of  two 
that  won  the  second  and  third  prizes  have  been  preserved — 
and  all  those  had  of  course  to  be  performed  before  a  decision 
could  be  made.  Two  or  three  days  at  least  must  have  passed 
before  the  exhibition  was  at  an  end. 

The  next  competitor  had  certainly  reason  to  complain  of 
liis  ill  luck.  Just  before  the  curtain  fell  for  the  opening 
scene  of  his  comedy  an  incident  occurred  which  made  the 
people  little  disposed  to  listen  to  anything  more  that  day. 
The  spectators  had  just  settled  themselves  in  their  places, 
when  a  young  officer  hastily  made  his  way  up  to  the  bench 
where  the  magistrates  were  seated,  and  handed  a  roll  to  the 
president.  The  occurrence  was  very  unusual.  It  was 
reckoned  almost  an  impiety  to  disturb  the  festival  of  Bac- 
chus with  anything  of  business;  only  matters  of  the  very- 
gravest  importance  could  be  allowed  to  do  it.  The  entrance 
of  the  young  man,  happening  as  it  did,  just  in  the  pause  of 
expectation  before  the  new  play  began,  had  been  generally 
observed.  Everyone  could  see  from  his  dress  that  he  was 
a  naval  Officer,  and  many  knew  him  as  one  of  the  most 
promising  young  men  in  Athens.     "News  fi-om  the  fleet" 


14  GALLIAS. 

was  the  whisper  that  ran  through  the  theatre,  and  ttiere 
were  few  among  the  thousands  there  assembled  to  whom 
news  from  the  fleet  did  not  mean  the  life  or  death  of  father, 
brother,  or  son.  The  president  glanced  at  the  document 
put  into  his  hands,  and  whispering  a  few  words  to  the  mes- 
senger, pointed  to  a  seat  by  his  side.  All  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  him.  (The  magistrates,  it  may  be  explained,  occupied 
one  of  the  front  or  lowest  rows  of  seats,  and  were  therefore 
more  or  less  in  view  of  the  whole  theatre,  which  was  ar- 
ranged in  the  form  of  a  semicircle,  with  tier  upon  tier  of 
benches  rising  upon  the  slope  of  the  hill  on  the  side  of  which 
the  building  was  constructed.)  When  a  moment  after- 
wards, the  curtain  was  withdrawn,  scarcely  a  glance  was 
directed  to  the  stage.  The  action  and  the  dialogue  of  the 
new  piece  were  absolutely  lost  upon  what  should  have  been 
an  audience,  but  was  a  crowd  of  anxious  citizens,  suddenly 
recalled  from  the  shows  of  the  stage  to  the  realities  of 
life. 

The  president  now  carefully  read  the  document  and  passed 
it  on  to  his  colleagues.  Some  whispered  consultations  passed 
between  them.  When  at  the  end  of  the  first  act  a  change 
of  scenery  caused  a  longer  pause  than  usual  the  presi- 
dent quietly  left  the  theatre,  taking  the  bearer  of  the 
despatch  with  him.  Some  of  the  other  magistrates  follow- 
ed him,  the  rest  remaining  behind  because  it  would  have 
been  unseemly  to  leave  the  official  seats  wholly  untenanted 
while  the  festival  was  still  going  on.  This  proceeding  in- 
creased the  agitation  of  the  i)eople,  because  it  emphasized 
the  importance  of  the  news  that  had  arrived.  Some  slipped 
away,  unable  to  sit  quietly  in  their  places  and  endure  the 
suspense,  and  vaguely  hoping  to  hear  something  more  out- 
side. Among  those  that  remained  the  buzz  of  conversa- 
tion grew  louder  and  louder.     Only  a  few  A'cry  determined 


CALLIAiS.  15 

play-goers  even  pretended  to  listen  to  what  was  going  on 
upon  the  stage.  Meanwhile  the  unfortunate  author,  to 
whom,  after  all,  the  fate  of  his  play  was  not  less  urgent  a 
matter  than  the  fate  of  the  city,  sat  upon  his  prompter's 
stool — ^the  author  not  uncommonly  did  the  duty  of  prompter 
— and  heartily  cursed  the  bad  luck  Avhich  had  distracted  in 
so  disastrous  a  way  the  attention  of  his  audience. 

When  at  last,  to  the  great  relief  of  everyone  concerned, 
the  performance  was  brought  to  a  conclusion,  the  young 
officer  told  his  story,  supplementing  the  meagre  contents  of 
the  despatch  whicli  he  had  brought,  to  a  full  conclave  of 
magistrates,  assembled  in  one  of  the  senate-rooms  of  the 
Prytaneum  or  Town-hall  of  Athens.  I  may  introduce  him 
tx)  my  readers  as  Callias,  the  hero  of  my  story. 

Many  of  the  details  that  follow  had  already  been  given  by 
CaUias,  but  as  he  had  to  repeat  them  for  the  benefit  of  the 
magistrates  who  had  stopped  behind  in  the  theatre,  I  may 
as  well  put  them  all  together. 

"  We  know,"  said  the  president,  "  that  Conon  was  beaten 
in  a  battle  in  the  harbor  of  Mitylene.  So  much  we  heard 
from  Hippocles,  a  very  patriotic  person  by  the  way, 
though  he  is  an  aUen.  He  has  a  very  swift  yacht  that  can 
outstrip  any  war  ship  in  Greece,  and  often  gives  us  verj' 
valuable  intelligence.    Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  CaUias,  flushing  with  pleasure,  for  indeed  he 
knew  and  respected  Hippocles  greatly,  "  I  know  him  very 
well." 

"Well,  togo  on,"  resumed  the  president.  "  So  much  we 
know,  but  no  more.  Tell  us  exactly  how  Conon  fared  in 
the  battle." 

"  Sir,"  answered  the  young  man,  "  he  lost  thirty  ships." 

"  And  the  crews,"  asked  the  president. 

"They  escaped;  happily  they  were  able  to  get  to  land." 


16  aALl.IAS. 

"Thank  Athene  for  that";  tmd  a  niunnur  of  relief  ran 
round  the  meeting.  "  And  the  other  forty — he  had  seventy, 
I  think,  in  all?  "     Callias  nodded  assent. 

"What  happened  to  the  forty  ?  " 

"  They  were  hauled  up  under  the  walls  wnen  the  day 
went  against  us." 

"  Now  tell  us  exactly  what  has  been  going  on  since." 

"The  Spartans  blockaded  the  harbor,  having  some  of 
their  ships  within,  and  some  without.  Our  general  saw 
that  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  when  he  should  have  to 
surrender.  The  Spartans  had  four  times  as  many  ships,  the 
ships  not,  perhaps,  quite  as  good  as  his,  but  the  crews,  I  am 
afraid,  somewhat  better." 

"Shade  of  Themistocles,"  murmured  one  of  the  magis- 
trates, "that  it  should  come  to  this — the  Spartan  crews 
'  somewhat  better '  than  ours.  But  I  am  afraid  that  it  is 
only  too  true." 

"  Hecould  not  break  through;  and  could  not  stand  a  long 
siege.  Mitylene  was  fairly  well  provisioned  for  its  ordinary 
garrison,  but  here  weje  seventy  crews  added  all  of  a  sudden 
to  the  number.  He  sent  some  officers — T  had  the  honor  of 
being  one  of  them — ^and  we  found  that  by  sparing  everything 
to  the  very  utmost,  we  might  hold  out  for  five  weeks.  The 
only  chance  was  to  send  news  to  Athens.  You  might  help 
us,  we  thought." 

"We  might;  we  must,  I  say.  But  how  it  is  to  be  done  is 
another  matter.    Tell  us  how  you  got  here  ?  " 

"The  general  took  the  two  fastest  ships  in  his  squadron, 
manned  them  with  the  very  best  rowers  that  he  could  find, 
practised  the  crews  for  four  days  in  the  inner  harbor,and  then 
set  about  running  the  blockade  with  them.  The  Spartans, 
you  see,  had  grown  a  little  careless.  We  hadn't  made  any 
attempt  to  get  out,  and  Conon  got  a  Lesbian  freedman  to 


GAL.l.IAi:i.  17 

desert  to  the  Spartans  with  a  story  that  we  were  meaning 
to  surrender.  This  put  them  off  their  guard  still  more. 
They  got  into  a  way  of  leaving  their  ships  at  noon,  to  take 
their  meal  and  their  siesta  afterwards  on  shore.  We  made 
a  dart  at  an  unguarded  place  between  two  of  their  block- 
ading ships  and  we  got  through.  I  don't  think  that  we 
lost  a  single  man.  By  the  time  that  the  crews  of  the 
blockading  galleys  regained  their  vessels  we  were  well 
out  of  bow-shot.  Our  instructions  were  to  separate,  when 
we  got  outside  the  harbor.  We  did  not  do  this  at  once  be- 
cause we  had  planned  a  little  trick  which  might,  we  hoped, 
help  to  put  tlie  enemy  off  the  scent.  The  ship  that  I  was 
in  was  really  the  swifter  of  the  two.  This  was,  of  course, 
the  reason  why  I  was  put  into  it.  But  as  long  as  we  kept 
together  we  made  believe  that  we  were  the  slower.  When 
they  came  out  after  us — they  had  manned  half  a  dozen 
ships  or  so  as  quickly  as  they  could — we  separated.  My 
ship,  which  you  will  understand,  was  really  the  faster  of 
the  two,  was  put  about  the  north  as  if  making  for  Helles- 
pont; the  other  kept  on  its  course,  straight  for  Athens.  The 
Spartans  told  off  their  best  ships  to  follow  the  latter  which 
they  thought  that  they  had  the  better  chance  of  catching. 
And  of  course,  as  it  was  headed  this  way,  it  seemed  the 
more  important  of  the  two." 

"I  suppose  that  they  overtook  it,"  said  the  president, 
"  or  It  would  have  been  here  before  this." 

"Well,  we  soon  outstripped  the  two  galleys  that  were 
told  to  look  after  us.  When  we  were  well  out  of  sight,  we 
headed  westward  again,  took  a  circuit  round  the  north  side 
of  Lemnos,  and  got  here  without  seeing  another  enemy." 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you  left  Mitylene  ?  " 

"  About  five  days." 

"  But  how  long  did  Conon  think  he  could  hold  out?  " 


18  CALLIAS. 

"  About  forty  days;  perhaps  more,  if  the  men  were  put  on 
short  rations." 

"  You  have  done  well,  my  son,"  said  the  president  kindly, 
"  and  Athens  will  not  forget  it.  We  will  consult  together, 
though  there  is  small  need  of  consulting,  I  take  it.  The  re- 
lief must  be  sent.     Is  it  not  so  gentlemen  ?  " 

His  colleagues  nodded  assent. 

"But  there  are  things  to' be  talked  over.  We  must  decide 
how  much  we  can  send,  and  that  cannot  be  done  upon  the 
spot.  But  there  is  a  matter  that  can  be  settled  at  once. 
Conon  must  be  told  that  he  is  going  to  be  relieved.  Now, 
who  will  tell  him  ?    Will  you  ?" 

*'  Certainly,  if  you  see  fit  to  give  me  the  order." 

"And  how?" 

"I  would  consult  with  Hippocles." 

"  Excellent ! "  cried  the  president.  "  He  is  just  the  man 
to  help  us.  You  will  go  and  see  him,  and  then  report  to 
me.  Come  to  me  to-night;  it  will  not  matter  how  late  it  is; 
I  shall  be  waiting  for  you." 

Callias  saluted,  and  withdrew. 


CHAPTEE  III. 

hippocijES  the  aliex. 

HiPPOCLES  has  been  described  as  an  alien.  An  "alien," 
then  at  Athens,  as  in  the  other  Greek  cities,  was 
a  resident  foreigner.  He  might  be  an  fenfranohised 
slave,  he  might  be  a  barbarian  (as  all  persons  not  Greek 
were  described),  or  he  might  be  a  Greek  of  the  purest  de- 
scent, but  if  he  had  not  the  rights  of  Athenian  citizenship, 
he  was  an  "aUen."  He  could  not  hold  any  landed  or 
house  property:  he  was  obliged  to  appear  in  any  law 
suit  in  which  he  might  be  concerned  in  the  person  of 
an  Athenian  citizen  who  was  described  as  his  "patron," 
and  he  was  heavily  taxed.  A  special  impost  that  went 
under  the  name  of  an  "  alien-tax  "  was  only  a  sUght  matter, 
sonxe  twelve  drachmas  *  a  year,  but  all  the  imposts  were 
made  specially  heavy  for  them.  And  though  they  had  no 
share  in  directing  the  policy  of  the  state,  they  were  re- 
quired to  serve  in  its  fleets  and  armies.  This  treatment 
however,  did  not  keep  aliens  from  settling  in  Athens.  On 
the  contrary  they  were  to  be  found  there  in  great  numbers, 
and  as  almost  all  the  trade  of  the  place  was  in  their  hands, 
some  of  them  were  among  its  richest  inhabitants. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  Hippocles  had  the 
reputation,  which  we  may  say  was  by  no  means  unde- 

*  This  would  amoant  to  about  $2.25— a  drachma  being  equal  to 
about  20c  or  9}^d.  In  English  money. 


20  CAL,LIA<S 

served,  of  being  the  richest  resident  in  Athens.  And 
more  than  that,  he  was  one  of  the  most  patriotic.  He 
loved  the  city  as  if  it  had  been  liis  native  place,  and  did  the 
duty  and  more  than  the  duty  of  a  son  to  her.  The  special 
contributions  which  as  a  wealthy  man  he  was  called  upon 
to  make  to  the  public  service  *  were  made  with  a  princely 
liberality.  He  even  voluntarily  undertook  services  which 
were  not  required  of  him  by  law.  Every  year  he  had  come 
forward  to  furnish  the  crew  and  munitions  of  a  ship  of  war, 
a  charge  to  which  citizens  only  were  properly  liable.  And 
of  the  fleet  of  which  such  gloomy  tidings  had  just  reached 
Athens,  he  had  equipped  no  less  than  three. 

Hippocles  had  a  curious  history.  He  was  bom  in  the 
Greek  colony  of  Posidonia.t  He  was  just  entering  on 
manhood  when  his  native  city  fell  into  the  hands  of  its 
Lucanian  neighbors.  The  barbarians  did  not  abuse  then* 
victory.  They  did  not  treat  the  conquered  city,  as  the 
Greeks  of  Croton  some  ninety  years  before  had  treated 
Sybaris,  reducing  it  to  an  absolute  ruin.  On  the  contrary 
they  contented  themselves  with  imposing  a  tribute,  and 
leaving  a  governor,  with  a  garrison  to  support  him,  to  see 
that  their  new  subjects  did  not  forget  their  duty.  But  the 
presence  of  the  foreigner  was  a  grievous  burden  to  the  prond 
Greeks.  For  ages  afterwards  their  descendants  were  accus- 
tomed to  assemble  once  a  year  and  to  bewail  their  fate,  as 
the  Sons  of  Jacob  at  the  Vale  of  Weeping,  the  Gentile 
domination  over  their  city.    The  disaster  broke  the  heart 

•  These  "  liturgies,"  as  tliey  were  called,  were  ciiarges  imposed  upon 
all  residents  in  Athens  whose  property  was  assessed  at  more  than  a 
<«rtain  amount  (three  talents,  which,  as  a  talent  contained  6,000 
drachmae,  may  be  roughly  estimated  at  ^,500,  equivalent,  it  is  proba- 
ble, to  much  more  in  actual  value).  These  were  originally  equivalents 
for  special  privileges  and  powers  which  the  wealthy  enjoyed  under  the 
earlier  constitution,  but  they  were  continued  in  force  after  the  demo- 
cratic changes  which  put  all  citizens  on  an  equality.  The  Aliens  were 
not  liable  to  all. 

t  Better  kno^vn  by  its  Latin  name  of  Paestum. 


CAIjLIAS.  !il 

of  Hippocles'  father  Cimou  who  was  one  of  Posidonia'a 
most  distinguished  citizens  and  had  actually  held  the  office 
of  Tagus  or  chief  magistrate  in  the  year  of  its  fall.  He  sur- 
vived the  event  scarcely  a  year,  recommending  his  son  with 
his  last  breath  to  leave  the  place  for  some  city  where  he 
could  Uve  in  a  way  more  worthy  of  a  Greek.  His  son  spent 
the  next  two  years  in  quietly  realizing  his  property,  nor  did 
he  meet  with  any  interference  from  the  Lucanian  masters 
of  the  place.  His  house  he  had  to  sacrifice;  to  sell  it  might 
have  attracted  too  much  notice;  but  everything  else  that  he 
had  was  converted  into  money.  "When  this  was  safely  in- 
vested at  Athens — Athens  having  been  for  various  reasons 
the  city  of  his  choice — he  secretly  departed.  But  he  did  not 
depart  alone.  He  took  with  him  a  companion,  who,  he  de- 
clared, more  than  made  up  to  him  for  all  that  as  a  Posi- 
donian  citizen  he  had  lost.  Pontia,  the  daughter  of  the 
Lucanian  governor,  was  a  girl  of  singular  beauty.  The 
Lucanian,  in  common  with  the  other  Itahan  tribes,  gave  to 
their  women  a  liberty  which  was  unknown  in  Greek  house- 
holds. Under  the  circumstances  of  life  in  which  he  had 
been  brought  up,  Hippocles  though  a  frequent  visitor  at 
the  governor's  house,  would  never,  except  by  the  merest 
accident,  have  seen  the  governor's  daughter.  As  it  was  he 
had  many  opportunities  of  making  her  acquaintance.  In- 
stead of  being  shut  up,  after  the  Greek  fashion  in  the  women's 
apartments,  she  shared  the  common  life  of  the  family.  At 
first  the  novelty  of  the  situation  almost  shocked  the  young 
man;  before  long  it  pleased  him;  it  ended  by  conquering  his 
heart.  The  young  Greek,  who  was  leaving  his  native  land 
because  it  did  not  suit  his  pride  of  race  to  Uve  under  the  rule 
of  a  barbarian,  did  not  submit  without  an  efibrt.  Again 
and  again  he  reproached  himself  with  the  monstrous  incon- 
sistency of  wliich  he  was  guilty.    "  Madman  that  I  am,"  he 


22  CALLIA.S. 

said  to  himself,  "  I  cannot  endure  to  live  with  barbarians 
for  neighbors  and  yet  I  think  of  taking  a  barbarian  to 
wife."  Again  and  again  he  resolved  to  break  free  from  the 
influence  that  was  enthralling  him.  But  love  was  too 
strong  for  him.  Nor  indeed,  were  there  wanting  arguments 
on  the  other  side.  "Actually,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  am  a 
Greek  no  more;  a  Greek  without  a  city  is  only  not  a  bar- 
barian in  name."  This  argument,  of  little  weight,  perhaps, 
in  itself,  gained  force  from  the  loveUness  and  mental  charms 
of  the  young  Pontia.  She  had  long  felt  a  distaste  for  the 
rough,  uncultured  life  into  which  she  had  been  born.  The 
culture  and  refinement  of  her  father's  young  Greek  guest 
charmed  her.  The  sadness  of  his  mien  touched  the 
chord  of  pity  in  her  heart,  and  admiration  and  pity  to- 
gether soon  grew  into  love. 

Hippocles  had  just  completed  the  settlement  of  his  affairs, 
and  was  ruefully  contemplating  the  curious  dilemma  in 
which  he  found  himself —everything  ready  for  his  departure 
from  Posidonia,  but  Posidonia  holding  him  from  such  de- 
parture by  ties  which  he  could  break  only  by  breaking  his 
heart — when  circumstances  suggested  a  way  of  escape. 

The  governor  was  a  widower,  and  had  more  than  the 
usual  incapacity  of  busy  men  in  middle  life  for  discerning 
the  symptoms  of  love.  It  was  accordingly,  with  a  cheerful 
unconsciousness  of  his  guest's  feelings  that  he  said  to  him 
one  morning: — "  I  have  good  news  about  my  dear  Pontia. 
The  girl  is  growing  up,  and  should  be  settled  in  life,  and  I 
have  had  a  most  eligible  proposal  for  her.  I  have  told  you, 
I  think,  that  I  am  getting  tired  of  this  life,  and  want  to 
get  back  to  my  farm  among  the  hills.  So  I  have  asked  to 
be  relieved,  and  I  hear  from  the  Senate  that  they  have 
chosen  a  successor,  Hostius  of  Vulsi,  a  cousin,  I  should  say, 
•f  my  own,  and  a  most  respectable  man.   Hostius  has  come 


CALLIAS.  23 

to  announce  the  fact  in  person,  and  at  the  same  time  to  ask 
for  my  daughter  in  marriage.  A  most  eligible  proposal,  I 
say.  Perhaps  he  is  a  little  old,  about  five  years  younger 
than  myself.  But  that's  of  no  consequence.  I  mentioned 
the  matter  to  her.  She  did  not  say  much,  but,  of  course,  a 
girl  must  seem  to  hold  back.  I  suggested  that  the  marriage 
should  take  place  next  week — for  I  should  dearly  like  to  be 
at  home  in  time  for  the  barley  harvest.  That  roused  her. 
Of  course  she  said  that  she  had  no  clothes.  I  don't  know 
about  that — she  always  seems  to  me  to  look  very  nice — but 
I  should  not  like  to  annoy  her,  for  she  is  a  dear,  good  girl, 
and  I  gave  her  another  month.  It's  an  excellent  arrange- 
ment— don't  you  think  so  ?" 

Hippocles  muttered  a  few  words  of  assent;  but  long  be- 
fore the  month  was  out,  he  and  his  Pontia  were  on  their 
way  to  Athens. 

The  marriage  and  the  settlement  in  Athens  had  taken 
place  twenty-one  years  before  the  time  of  which  I  am 
writing.  Two  children  had  been  born,  a  son  and  a 
daughter.  The  son  had  fallen,  not  many  months  before,  at 
the  battle  of  Notium  *  and  the  death  of  the  mother,  who 
had  been  in  feeble  health,  had  soon  followed.  The  daughter, 
to  whom  her  parents  had  given  the  name  of  Hermione,  had 
just  completed  her  sixteenth  year. 

Hermione  united  in  herself  soime  of  the  happiest  charac- 
teristics of  the  two  races  from  which  she  sprang.  Her 
father  was  a  Greek  of  the  Greeks.  Posidonia  had  been 
founded  by  Dorian  settlers  from  Sybaris,  who  could  not 
contrive  to  live  on  good  terms  with  the  Achaean  Greeks 
that  had  become  the  predominant  element  in  that  city;  and 
Hippocles,  who  claimed  descent  from  the  Messenian  kings, 

*  Fought  in  407.  Notlum  was  the  harbor  of  Colophon  a  city  of 
Asia  Minor,  about  nine  miles  north  of  Ephesus,  and  about  lifteen  miles 
from  the  sea. 


24  (JALLIAS. 

yielded  to  none  in  nobility  of  birth.  A  purer  ty i^e  of  the 
genuine  Hellenes  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  find. 
Pontia  brought  from  the  Lucanian  hills,  among  which  she 
had  been  reared,  some  of  the  best  qualities,  moral  and 
physical,  of  the  ItaUan  race.  The  simpUcity,  frugahty,  and 
temperance  which  then  and  long  after  distinguished  rural 
Italy,  were  to  be  seen  in  her  united  with  a  singular 
feminine  charm  not  so  often  found  among  that  some- 
what rude  population;  until  the  close  air  of  the  Piraeus 
ill-suited  to  a  daughter  of  the  hills,  sapped  her  constitution, 
she  had  had  a  frame  magnificently  healthy  and  strong, 
To  the  daughter  the  climate  which  had  shortened  her  moth 
er's  days,  happily  did  no  harm.  It  was  in  fact  her  native  air. 
and  she  throve  in  it.  She  was  still  undeveloped,  for  she 
had  only  just  completed  her  sixteenth  year;  but  she  gave 
promise  of  remarkable  beauty,  and  indeed,  the  promise  was 
already  more  than  half  fulfilled.  When  she  had  performed 
the  duty,  sometimes  imposed  on  the  daughters  of  resident 
aliens, — it  might  be  called,  rather,  privilege  conceded  to 
them — and  walked  in  the  great  procession  of  the  patron- 
goddess,  holding  a  sunshade  over  some  high-born  Athenian 
maiden,  *  all  the  spectators  agreed  that  the  prize  of  beauty 
belonged  to  the  stranger.  Her  stature  reached  the  very  ut- 
most height  that  the  canons  of  beauty  conceded  to  women ; 
so  far  she  was  naore  of  an  Athene  than  an  Aphrodite.  But 
her  face  and  her  whole  bearing  were  exquisitely  feminine. 
The  sapphire-colored  eyes,  shaded  by  long  drooping  lashes 
the  forehead,  broad  and  low  with  the  clustering  ringlets  of 
light  chestnut  on  either  side,  perfectly  rounded  cheeks, 
firm,  delicate  mouth,  showing  a  glimpse,  but  only  a  glimpse 
of  pearly  teeth,    and   a  faultlessly  clear  complexion,  just 

*  Noble  Athenian  damsels  were  the  "  basket-bearers  "  {Canephoroi), 
daughters  of  aliens  "Sunshade-bearers"  {Skiaphoroi)  in  the  Panathe- 
naca,  or  Great  Procession  of  Athens. 


CALLIA&.  26 

tinted  with  the  brown  caught  from  ^gsean  suns  and  winds 
— for  she  was  dearly  fond  of  a  cruise  iu  her  father's  yacht — 
made  up  together  a  remarkable  combination  of  charms. 

Callias  had  seen  her  but  once  before,  and  that  was  ou  a 
melancholy  occasion.  He  had  been  commissioned  by  the 
general  in  command  to  break  to  her  father  the  death 
of  her  brother,  killed  as  has  been  said,  in  the  un- 
lucky conflict  at  Notium.  He  had  behaved  there  with  con- 
spicuous gallantrj^,  having  led  the  boarding  party  which  cap- 
tured the  only  Lacedaemonian  galley  that  the  Athenians  had 
to  set  ofFagainst  their  own  fifteen  losses,  and  had  fallen  in  the 
moment  of  victory.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  he  had 
shown  distinguished  valor,  and  it  was  for  this  reason,  as 
well  as  on  account  of  the  high  reputation  of  his  father,  that 
Alcibiades  had  sent  Calhas  with  a  special  message  of  condo- 
lence. The  blow,  which  could  not  be  softened  by  any  deli- 
cacy in  the  telUng,  and  for  which  the  praises  of  the  general 
were  but  a  slight  consolation,  broke  Hippocles  down  com- 
pletely. It  was  then  that  Hermione  showed  the  strength 
of  her  character.  Tenderly  attached  herself  to  her  brother 
she  had  come  forward  to  support  her  broken-hearted  father. 
With  a  patient  endurance  that  was  beyond  all  praise,  she 
had  battled  with  her  own  grief  in  the  eflTort  to  help  a 
sorrow  even  more  agonizing  than  her  own,  till  for  very 
shame  Hippocles  had  raised  himself  to  bear  his  loss  with 
resignation.  The  effort  saved  his  life ;  for  even  the  physi- 
cians had  at  one  time  been  greatly  alarmed.  Callias,  accus- 
tomed to  think  of  women  as  encumbrances  rather  than 
helps  in  time  of  need  was  profoundly  impressed  by  the 
girl's  demeanor.  If  he  had  been  inclined,  for  a  moment, 
to  think  that  her  singular  self-possession  indicated  a  want 
of  womanly  feeling,  he  would  have  been  soon  undeceived. 
Paying  a  visit  of  inquiry  to  the  house  next  day,  he  found 


26  CALLIAS. 

that  Hemaione's  endurance  had  not  lasted  beyond  the  oc- 
casion for  which  it  was  wanted.  Her  father  received  him, 
and  told  him  that  his  daughter  had  broken  down  under  the 
strain.  "  I  was  cowardly  enough,"  he  said,  "yesterday  to 
rest  upon  her  strength  when  I  should  have  summoned  up 
my  own.  The  gods  grant  that  I  may  not  have  taxed  it 
overmuch,  and  that  I  may  not  lose  both  my  children.  I 
have  learned  that  I  ought  not  to  have  grudged  my  son  to  the 
city  which  has  been  a  second  mother  to  me;  if  ouly  I  have 
not  learnt  it  at  too  terrible  a  price."  CaUias  had  to  leave 
Athens  on  the  next  day  to  rejoin  the  fleet,  but  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  hearing  before  his  departure  that  Hermione 
was  on  a  fair  way  to  recovery.  Since  then  he  had  not  been 
in  Athens. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

A  COUNCIL. 

The  house  of  Hippocles  was  on  a  smaller  scale  than  might 
have  seemed  suitable  to  his  vast  wealth.  The  fact  was  that 
both  he  and  his  daughter  had  simple  tastes.  They  had  a 
special  dislike  to  the  enormous  establishments  of  slaves 
which  it  was  the  fashion  for  rich  Athenians,  whether  of 
native  or  of  foreign  birth,  to  maintain.  In  each  division 
of  the  house — for,  it  was  divided  after  the  usual  Greek 
fashion,  into  two  "apartments,"  to  use  that  word  in  its 
proper  sense,  belonging  respectively  to  the  men  and  the 
women  * — there  were  but  three  or  four  inmates  besides 
the  master  and  mistress.  Hippocles  had  his  house  steward 
and  his  personal  attendant,  both  older  than  himself,  long 
since  emancipated,  who  had  accompanied  him  from 
his  Italian  home,  and  a  lad  of  seventeen,  who 
was  still  a  slave,  but  who,  if  he  conducted  himself 
well,  would  certainly  earn  his  freedom  by  the  time  that 
he  had  reached  the  age  of  thirty.  Hermione's  estabUsh- 
ment,  on  the  other  hand,  consisted  of  a  lady  who  had  just 
exchanged  the  post  of  governess,  now  no  longer  necessary, 
for  that  of  companion  or  duenna,  a  housekeeper,  and  two 
domestics  who  may  be  described  by  the  modem  terms  of 
lady's-maid  and  house-mafd.  Stephanion,  the  companion, 
was  of  pure  Athenian  descent.    She  belonged  to  one  of  the 

•  The  Andronltis  and  Oynae  konitis,  as  they  were  called. 


28  CALLIA8. 

many  families  which  had  been  reduced  to  poverty  by  the 
war,  and  she  had  been  glad  to  take  employment  in  the  house 
of  the  wealthy  alien.  She  had  more  education  than  was 
conunonly  given  to  Athenian  ladies,  but  this  is  not  to  say 
much,  and  Hermione  would  have  fared  but  ill  for  teaching, 
according  at  least  to  our  standard  if  her  father  had  not  al- 
ways found  time  even  in  his  busiest  days,  to  supplement 
her  education.  The  housekeeper  was  a  Laconian  woman. 
She,  too,  had  found  her  way  into  the  family  through  circum- 
stances connected  with  the  war.  She  had  been  nurse  in  a 
wealthy  Athenian  household.  Before  the  war  it  had  been  the 
fashion,  my  readers  should  know,  for  the  upper  classes  at 
Athens  to  get  their  nurses  from  Sparta.  A  true  Spartan,  a 
daughter  that  is,  of  the  military  aristocracy  that  ruled 
Laconia  and  its  dependencies,  it  was,  of  course,  impossible 
to  obtain,  but  girls  from  the  farmer  class  that  cultivated  the 
lands  of  their  soldier  masters  often  sought  situations  in 
other  countries.  This  was  the  case  with  Melanion, 
who  as  the  youngest  of  the  five  daughters  of  a  Laconian 
farmer,  had  been  dehghted  to  find  a  place  with  an  Athenian 
lady,  Melissa,  wife  of  Demochares,  at  a  salary  which  almost 
equalled  her  father's  income.  This  was  just  before  the  com- 
mencement of  the  long  war.  She  had  been  nurse  to  Me- 
lissa's five  children  when  the  disastrous  expedition  to  Sicily 
brought  irretrievable  ruin  upon  her  employer's  family.  De- 
mochares was  one  of  the  army  that  surrendered  with  Nicias, 
was  thrown  with  his  comrades  into  that  most  dreadful  of 
prisons,  the  stone-quarries  of  Syracuse,  and  died  of  a  fever 
before  the  end  of  the  year.  His  property  had  consisted,  for 
the  most  part,  of  farms  in  the  island  of  Chios,  and  when 
Chios  revolted  from  Athens,  the  widow  and  her  children 
were  reduced  to  something  very  like  poverty.  Nothing  was 
left  to  them  but  a  small  farm  at  Marathon,   and  as  it  so 


GALLIAS.  29 

happened,  the  rent  of  the  house  which  Hippoeles  unable, 
as  has  been  said,  to  own  real  property  in  Attica,  had  been 
accustomed  to  hire.  The  estabUshment  had  to  be  broken 
up,  the  slaves  being  sold  and  the  free  persons  looking  for 
employment  elsewhere.  Melanion  was  about  to  return, 
much  against  her  will,  to  Laconia,  where  her  long  residence 
at  Athens  would  have  rendered  her  an  object  of  suspicion 
and  dislike,  when  an  opening  suddenly  presented  itself  in 
the  family  of  Hippoeles.  Pontia's  long  illness  had  come  to 
a  fatal  end,  and  the  widower  was  looking  for  an  experienced 
woman  to  take  charge  of  the  young  Hermione.  Melanion 
seemed  to  him  exactly  the  person  that  he  wanted,  and  she, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  delighted  to  come  to  him.  As  her 
charge  grew  older,  her  duties  as  nurse  gradually  changed 
into  the  duties  of  a  housekeeper.  She  had  come  to  her  new 
situation  accompanied  by  a  middle-aged  woman,  a  Marian 
by  birth,  Manto  by  name,  whom  Hippoeles  had  bought,  at 
her  suggestion,  at  the  sale  of  Demochares'  slaves.  Manto 
had  steadily  refused  the  emancipation  which  her  master  had 
several  times  offered  to  her. 

"No,  sir,"  she  said,  "  I  thank  you  very  much,  but  I  am 
better  as  I  am.  I  desire  nothing  more  than  to  live  in  your 
house,  and,  when  my  time  comes,  to  die  in  it." 

"What  if  I  should  die  first,"  suggested  the  merchant. 

"  The  gods  know,  my  master,  the  gods  know,"  cried  the 
poor  woman  in  an  agony.  "But  it  is  impossible;  the  gods 
would  not  do  anything  so  cruel,  so  unjust.  But,  if« 
you  wish,  you  may  put  what  you  please  into  your  will.  As 
long  as  you  live  you  are  my  master,  and  I  am  your  slave." 
So  matters  stood  when  my  story  opens.  Perhaps  it  may  be 
added  that  Manto's  condition  did  not  prevent  her  tongue 
from  being  truthful;  but  affectionate,  faithful,  and  honest 
she  allowed  herself  and  was  allowed — no  unusual  circum- 


30  CALLIAS. 

stance,  j^et  she  was  under  a  system  of  slavery — a  liberty  of 
speech  which  in  one  free  born  would  certainly  have  been  im- 
possible. Finally,  to  complete  my  account  of  the  household, 
Hermione  had  for  her  maid  a  girl  about  a  year  older  than 
herself.  She  too  had  come  into  the  family  along  with 
Melanion  and  Manto.  Demochares  had  bought  her  at  the 
sale  of  the  prisoners  taken  by  the  Athenians  when  a  little 
SiciUan  town  was  captured.  She  was  then  a  sin- 
gularly pretty  child  about  seven  years  old,  and  De- 
mochares had  meant  her  to  be  a  playfellow  or  plaything,  as 
the  case  might  be,  of  a  daughter  of  his  own  of  about  the 
same  age.  She  was  of  mixed  race;  her  mother  was  a 
Sicanian,  that  is,  one  of  the  so-called  aboriginal  inhabitants 
of  Sicily,  her  father  a  Carthaginian  trader.  She  was  now 
grown  up  into  a  handsome  maiden,  who  with  her  raven- 
black  hair,  dark  piercing  eyes,  and  deep  brunette  complex- 
ion, made  a  remarkable  contrast  to  the  fair  beauty  of  her 
mistress. 

When  Callias  reached  the  house  the  hour  was  late,  later 
than  etiquette  allowed  for  a  visit,  except  from,  an  intimate 
friend,  or  on  a  matter  of  urgent  business.  His  business, 
however,  was  urgent,  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  knocks  that 
is  to  strike  the  door  sharply  with  a  brass  ring  which  was 
attached  to  it  by  a  staple.  The  day-porter  had  gone  home 
for  the  night,  and  the  door  was  opened  by  the  young  slave 
mentioned  above.  He  explained  that  his  master  was  just 
about  to  sit  down  to  his  evening  meal.  "Take  him  my 
name,"  said  Callias,  "and  say  that  I  come  from  the  magis- 
trates on  an  important  matter  of  business."  The  lad  invited 
him  to  enter,  and  to  take  a  seat  in  a  small  chamber  which 
looked  upon  the  central  court  of  the  andronitis,  a  grass  plot, 
bordered  on  all  sides  by  mjTtle  and  orange.  In  a  few  min- 
utes he  returned,   and  invited  the  visitor  to  follow  him. 


CALLIAS.  31 

Callias  crossed  the  court  ana  passed  through  the  door  which 
led  into  the  women's  apartment.  Hippocles,  it  should  be 
said,  was  accustomed  to  see  \dsitors  on  business  in  the  front 
or  men's  portion  of  the  dwelling,  but  spent  his  leisure  time 
in  the  rooms  assigned  to  his  daughter.  The  two  had  just 
taken  their  places  at  the  table,  Hippocles  reclining  on  a 
couch,  Hermione  sitting  on  a  chair  by  his  right  hand,  so 
that  his  face  was  turned  towards  her.*  The  steward  had 
placed  the  first  dish  on  the  table,  and  was  standing  in  front, 
with  Hippocles'  personal  attendant  behind  him.  The  latter 
at  a  sign  from  his  master,  prepared  a  place  for  the  newcomer. 

Hippocles  saluted  his  guest  in  a  most  friendly  fashion, 
and  Hermione  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  charming  smile, 
though  the  moment  afterwards  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes, 
when  she  remembered  the  last  occasion  on  which  they  had 
met 

"If  the  business  will  wait  for  half  an  hour,"  said  the 
host,  "  postpone  it  for  so  long.  I  have  had  a  long  day's 
work,  and  shall  be  scarcely  myself  till  I  have  eaten.  And 
you— doubtless  you  have  dined  before  this ;  but  you  will 
take  a  cup  with  us." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Callias  had  not  dined,  though  in  the 
excitement  of  the  day's  business  he  had  almost  forgotten 
food.  A  hasty  meal  snatched  on  board  the  trireme  which 
had  brought  him  to  Athens  tiad  been  his  only  refreshment 
since  the  morning. 

"Nay,  sir,  but  I  have  not  dined;  unless  you  call  some 
five  or  six  dried  anchovies  and  a  hunk  of  barley  bread, 
washed  down  with  some  very  sharp  Hymettus,  a  dinner; 
and  that  was  rather  before  noon  than  after  it." 

•  A  Greek  at  table,  after  it  became  the  fashion  to  recline  Instead  of 
sit  (as  had  been  the  practice  in  the  heroic  ages)  lay  on  his  left  side,  sup- 
ijortine  his  head  by  his  left  arm,  the  other  arm  being  left  free  to  help 
himself  from  the  dishes  when  they  were  placed  before  him.  Women 
and  children  always  sat  at  table. 


82  CALLJAS. 

The  meal  was  simple.  It  consisted  of  some  fresh  anchovies, 
a  piece  of  roast  pork,  a  hare  brought  from  Eubcea,  for  Attica 
swept  as  it  had  been  again  and  again  by  hostile  armies,  had 
almost  ceased  to  supply  this  favorite  food,  and  a  pudding  of 
wheat  flour,  seasoned  with  spices.  This  last  had  been  made 
by  Hermione  herself.  The  rest  of  the  dinner  had  been 
cooked  by  a  man  who  came  in  daily  for  the  purpose. 
When  the  viands  had  been  cleared  away,  Hippocles 
proposed  the  usual  toast,  "To  our  Good  Fortune,"  the 
toast  not  being  drank,  but  honored  by  pouring  some 
drops  from  the  goblet.  A  second  libation  followed,  this 
time  to  "Athene  the  Keeper  of  the  City."  The  host  then 
pledged  his  guest  in  a  cup  of  Chian  wine.  His  daughter 
followed  the  rule  of  the  best  Grecian  families,  and  drank 
no  wine. 

"  We  can  dispense,  I  thinkj  with  these,"  he  saidj  when 
the  steward  was  about  to  put  some  apples,  nuts  and  olives 
on  the  table. 

"Just  so,"  replied  his  guest,  "and  this  excellent  cup  of 
Chian  will  be  all  the  wine  that  I  shall  want." 

"Now  then  for  business,"  said  Hippocles.  "  Let  us  hope 
that  the  city  will  pardon  us  for  postponing  it  so  long. 
But  we  must  eat.  Shall  my  daughter  leave  us?  For  my 
part,  I  find  her  a  very  Athene  for  counsel." 

"As  you  will,  sir,"  replied  CalUas,  "I  have  nothing  to 
say  but  what  all  may  know,  and  indeed  will  know  before  a 
day  is  past." 

The  young  man  then  proceeded  to  tell  the  story  with 
which  my  readers  are  already  acquainted.  The  question 
was  briefly  this :  How  was  Conon  to  be  told  that  relief  was 
coming? 

"  I  see,"  said  Hippocles,  "  that  he  must  be  told.  He  is  a 
brave  fellow,  and  a  good  general,   too,  though  perhaps  a 


i  £ 

^  I 

«•    ^  i 

«  r^  «>  "S 

sSs8  8 

.  «i3  3  "O 

?     lip 

U   .H   .  ^ 

....  o 


^  Hi 

till 

'a    o    < 
o     « 

■3fl93  .|<2! 


Plan  of  a  large  Grecian  House,  probably  more  pretentious 
than  the  House  of  Hippocles. 


CALLIAS.  33 

little  rash.  But  he  must  make  terms  for  mmself  and  his 
men,  unless  he  has  a  project  of  relief.  He  would  not  be 
doing  his  duty  to  the  state  if  he  did  not.  But  if  he  capitu- 
lates before  the  reUef  comes — how  many  ships  has  he?" 

"  Forty,"  said  Callias. 

"  And  we  can  have  a  hundred,  or  possibly,  a  hundred  and 
ten  here,  by  straining  every  nerve.  The  Spartans  have  a 
hundred  and  forty,  I  think." 

**  A  few  may  have  been  disabled  in  the  battle;  but  it  would 
not  be  safe  to  reckon  on  less,  for  very  likely  others  have 
been  dropping  in  since  then." 

"  Then  Conon's  party  will  turn  the  scale,  and  they  will 
be  better  mannedj  I  take  it,  than  any  that  we  shall  be  able 
to  send  out  from  here.  They  must  not  be  lost  to  us.  If  they 
are,  we  shall  do  better  not  to  send  out  the  fleet  at  all,  but  to 
stand  on  our  defence." 

"  Is  the  Skylark  in  harbor  now  ?  "  asked  Callias. 

My  readers  must  know  that  the  Skylark  was  Hippo- 
cles'  fast  sailing  yacht. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "siieis  in  harbor  and  very  much 
at  the  service  of  the  .state." 

"Trustme  with  her,"  said  Callias,  "and  I  will  run  the 
blockade." 

"I  don't  think  it  is  possible,"  answered  Hippocles.  "I 
gathered  from  what  you  said  that  the  Spartans  are  inside 
the  harbor.  Now  you  may  give  the  slip  to  a  blockading 
squadron  when  it  is  watching  a  harbor  from  the  outside. 
They  always  keep  close  to  the  mouth  you  see;  and  a  really 
good  craft,  smartly  handled,  that  can  sail  in  the  eye  of  the 
wind,  and  does  not  draw  much  water,  has  always  a  good 
chance.  I'll  warrant  the  Skylark  to  do  it,  if  it  is  to  be  done. 
But  with  the  blockade  inside  the  harbor,  the  case  is  dlflfer- 
ent,  and  I  must  own  that  I  don't  see  my  way." 


34  CALLIAK 

'  May  I  speak,  father?  "  said  Hermione. 
'Since when  have  you  begun  to  ask  leave  to  use  your 
tongue,  my  darling?"  replied  her  father  with  a  smile. 
"  You  should  hear  her  lecturing  me  when  we  are  alone,"  he 
went  on,  turning  to  his  guest.  "  But  our  counsellor  is  not 
used  to  speaking  in  an  assembly." 

"Would  it  be  of  any  use,"  said  the  girl,  "  to  disguise  the 
Skylark,  by  painting  her  another  color  and  altering  the  cut 
of  her  rigging  ?  " 

"A  good  thought,  my  darting,"  replied  her  father,  "and 
one  that  I  shall  certainly  make  use  of.  Now  let  me  think; 
just  for  the  present,  things  do  not  seem  to  piece  themselves 
together." 

He  rose  from  the  couch  on  which  he  had  been  reclining, 
and  paced  up  and  down  the  room  in  profound  thought. 
Fully  half  an  hour  had  passed  when  he  suddenly  stopped 
short  in  his  walk,  and  turned  to  his  daughter. 

"  My  darhng,"  he  said,  "  I  see  that  you  are  getting 
sleepy." 

"  Sleepy,  father?  "  cried  the  girl,  who  indeed  was  as  wide 
awake  as  possible,  "  sleepy  ?  what  can  you  mean  ?  how  could 
I  possibly  feel  sleepy,  when  we  are  talking  about  such 
things?" 

*'  Nevertheless  your  father  says  it,"  replied  Hippocles, 
"  and  fathers  are  never  mistaken."  And  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  her  shoulder. 

Without  another  word  Hermione  rose  from  her  chair, 
kissed  her  father,  held  out  her  hand  again  to  CaUias,  and 
left  the  room. 

Hippocles  waited  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  sat  down 
on  the  couch  by  Callias'  side. 

"You  wiU  have  guessed,"  he  said    "that  I  wanted  the 


CALLIAS.  35 

girl  away.  I  wish  that  I  had  never  let  her  stay;  now  she 
will  suspect  something;  but  it  cannot  be  helped.  Now, 
listen.  What  the  girl  said  about  disguising  the  Skylark  set 
me  thinking.  That  will  be  useful  another  time;  indeed  I 
shall  do  it  now.  But  it  won't  do  all  that  we  want.  Dis- 
guised or -not  disguised,  I  don't  see  how  she  is  to  get  past 
the  Spartan  ships  in  Mitylene  harbor.  Now  we  must  try  a 
bolder  play.    I  shall  disguise  myself,  and  go." 

"You,  sir,"  cried  Callias  in  astonishment.  "But  think 
of  the  danger." 

"Well,"  repUed  Hippocles,  "  we  cannot  expect  to  get  any- 
thing really  valuable  withoutdanger.  And  I  amsomething  of 
afatalist.  What  will  be  will  be.  Now  listen:  I  shall  disguise  my- 
self as  a  trader  of  Cos.  I  am  a  Dorian  by  birth,  you  know,  and^ 
I  can  use  the  broad  vowels  and  the  lisps  to  perfection  I  flatter 
myself.  I  say  Cos,  *  because  I  happen  to  be  particularly  well  ac- 
quainted with  its  dialect.  I  shall  go  to  Callicratidas  f  and  tell 
him  my  story — what  the  story  shall  be  I  have  not  yet  made  up 
my  mind,  but  it  is  not  hard  to  impose  upon  a  Spartan.  How- 
ever leave  all  that  to  me.  Go  and  tell  the  magistrates  that  I  un- 
dertake to  tell  Conon  that  he  will  be  relieved .  Apd ,  mind — not 
a  word  to  my  daughter.  I  shall  tell  her  that  I  am  called  away 
on  important  business.  Very  likely  she  will  guess  something 
of  the  truth;  but  it  would  only  trouble  her  to  tell  her  more." 

"And  the  magistrates,  sir?"  asked  Callias,  "how  much 
are  they  to  know  ?  " 

"  Nothing  more,  I  think,  than  what  I  said,  that  Hippo- 
cles the  Alien  undertakes  to  communicate  with  Conon.  I 
don '  t  doubt  the  good  faith  and  discretion  of  our  friends ;  but  the 
fewer  there  are  in  the  secret  of  such  a  plan,  the  better.    Keep 

o  Cos  was  one  of  the  cities  belonging  to  the  Dorian  Pentapolis. 
t  Callicratidas  was  the  admiral  in  command  of  the  Spartan  fleet. 


36  CALLJAS. 

a  thing  in  your  ownnaind,!  say.  If  you  whisperasecreteven 
unto  the  earth,  when  the  reed  grows  up  it  will  repeat  it.* 
You  will  say  simply  that  it  is  a  matter  which  it  is  well 
for  the  state  to  conceal.  If  I  succeed,  I  justify  my- 
self; if  not— well,  I  take  it,  no  man's  anger  here  will  concern 
me  much.  And  now  farewell !  Don't  vex  yourself  about  me. 
All  wiU  turn  out  well;  and  if  not — ^how  can  a  man  die  better 
than  in  saving  Athens.  All  my  affairs  are  arranged,  if  I 
should  not  return.  My  patron  Melesippus  will,  of  course,  be 
my  executor,  and  I  have  ventured  to  join  your  name  with 
his  in  the  trust  ?    Have  I  your  permission  ?  " 

Callias  pressed  Ids  hand  in  silence. 

"  That  is  well,  and  now  my  mind  is  easy.  And  now,"  he 
went  on  In  a  cheerful  tone,  "  farewell  again;  but  before  you 
go,  we  must  have  a  libation  to  Hermione  who  for  the  next 
ten  days  must  be  my  special  patron.  If  I  come  back  safe,  I 
will  regild  this  temple  from  roof  to  basement." 

The  libation  was  duly  poured,  and  the  vow  repeated  as 
the  drops  fell  upon  the  ground. 

*  Hippocles  Is  alluding  to  a  well  known  story.  Midas  deciding  in 
favor  of  Pan  as  a  better  musician  than  Apollo  was  punished  by.  being 
sriven  the  long  ears  of  an  ass.  He  hid  them  under  his  Phrygian  cap 
from  all  men  except  the  barber  who  cut  his  hair.  This  man,  oppressed 
with  the  secret,  dug  a  hole  in  the  earth,  whispered  into  it,  "  King  Midas 
has  asses'  ears,"  and  filling  it  up  again,  so  found  relief  from  his  burden. 
But  a  reed  grew  from  the  spot,  and  as  it  was  moved  by  the  wind  whis- 
pered the  secret  to  the  world. 


CHAPTER  V. 

BXJNNINa  THE  BIX)CKADE. 

HiPPOCLES,  who  was  a  shipbuilder  as  well  as  a  merchant, 
put  all  available  hands  to  work  on  the  alterations  which  he 
l^roposed  to  make  in  the  Skylark.  To  disguise  her  effec- 
tually was  a  more  difficult  thing  than  Hermione  had  im- 
agined when  she  had  suggested  this  idea.  To  disguise  her  be- 
yond all  risk  of  discovery  was  probably  impossible,  a  lands- 
man might  be  deceived  by  different  colored  paint,  and  a 
nautical  observer,  if  he  did  not  give  more  than  a  casual 
glance,  by  an  altered  rigging.  But  the  lines  of  the  ship 
would  remain.  These  Hippocles  endeavored  to  conceal  by  a 
false  and  much  broader  bow  which  was  ingeniously  fitted 
on  to  the  true  hull,  and  which  made  her  look  anything 
but  the  fast  sailer  that  she  really  was.  Heavy  bulwarks 
were  substituted  for  the  Ught  ones  that  had  been  a  familiar 
feature  of  the  Skylark.  Altogether  she  was  naetamorphosed 
in  a  fairly  satisfactory  way  from  a  smart  yacht  into  a 
clumsy  merchantman.  As  the  venturous  owner  intended 
to  time  his  arrival  for  the  night,  and  to  do  his  errand 
l^fore  day-break,  he  hoped  that  the  disguise  would  save 
her  as  long  as  it  should  be  wanted.  » 

So  much  energy  did  the  workmen,  stimulated  by  their 
master's  presence  and  by  his  liberal  promises  of  remunera- 
tion, throw  into  their  work,  that  by  the  evening  of  the 
seventh  day  the  Skylark  was  ready  for  sea  5n  her  new  dress, 
disguised  beyond  recognition,  except  by  very  skillful  eyes 


38  CALLIAS. 

indeed.  The  dockyard  had  been  strictly  closed  against  all 
visitors  while  the  work  was  in  progress,  and  the  men  had 
been  lodged  within  its  walls,  so  that  no  hint  of  what  was 
going  on  might  leak  out.  Hippocles  had  paid  a  daily  visit 
to  his  home,  and  did  not  conceal  from  his  daughter  that  he 
was  busy  in  carrying  out  her  suggestions.  So  frank,  indeed, ' 
was  he,  and  so  cheerful  in  manner,  that  the  girl  was  fairly 
thrown  off  her  guard.  Not  a  suspicion  crossed  her  mind, 
that  her  father  was  meditating  a  desperate  enterprise  in 
which  the  chances  were  certainly  rather  against  his  life 
than  otherwise,  nor  did  she  realize  the  extraordinary  haste 
with  which  the  work  was  being  pressed  on,  though  she  was 
generally  aware  that  a  good  deal  of  expedition  was  being 
used.  Hence  she  was  taken  by  surprise,  when  on  the 
eighth  day  instead  of  her  father's  usual  visit,  timed  so  that 
he  naight  share  her  noonday  meal,  a  written  message  was 
deUvered  to  her,  to  the  effect  that  her  father  was  suddenly 
called  away  from  Athens  on  business  of  importance,  and 
that  he  could  not  be  certain  of  the  day  of  his  return.  The 
surprise  almost  overwhehned  her,  chiefly  because  she 
felt  that  this  unusual  hurry  on  the  part  of  her  father  was 
significant  of  the  perilous  nature  of  the  enterprise.  It  was 
only  her  unusual  fortitude,  backed  by  the  feeling  that  she 
herself  must  not  deviate  from  doing  her  duty,  that  enabled 
her  to  bear  up  at  all. 

Meanwhile  Hippocles  was  on  his  way  to  the  scene  of 
action.  The  Skylark  crossed  the  JEgean  without  meeting 
with  any  misadventure.  She  was  overhauled,  indeed,  when 
about  half  her  journey  was  accomplished  by  an  Athenian 
cruiser,  and  her  owner  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  that 
so  far  his  disguise  was  successful.  The  Athenian  captain 
was  an  acquaintance  of  his  own  (indeed  there  were  few 
prominent  people  in  the  city  to  whom  he  was  not  known) 


CALLIAS.  38 

and  had  actually  been  on  board  the  Skylark  more  than 
once;  but  he  did  not  recognize  either  Hippoclesor  his  ves- 
sel. In  fact  he  was  about  to  carry  her  oflfas  a  prize  when 
Hippocles,  still  without  discovering  himself,  produced 
the  pass  with  which  he  had  been  provided  under  the 
seal  of  the  Athenian  authorities.  His  arrival  at  Mitylene 
was  happily  timed  in  more  ways  than  one.  By  a  stroke  of 
that  good  fortune  which  is  proverbially  said  to  help  the  bold 
it  so  happened  that  there  was  a  violent  north-east  wind 
blowing.  This  was  a  wind  from  which  the  harbor  of 
Mitylene  afforded  little  or  no  shelter.  In  fact,  when  it  was 
blowing,  most  sailors  preferred  to  be  out  on  the  open  sea. 
Hippocles  accordingly  found  everything  in  commotion. 
The  blockading  ships,  which  moored  as  they  were  across 
the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  felt  the  full  force  of  the  wind, 
were  anxious  about  their  moorings,  and  had  little  attention 
to  give  to  any  strange  ship.  The  Skylark  was  in  fact 
hardly  noticed  in  the  darkness  and  confusion,  and  actually 
got  beyond  the  line  of  the  blockading  galleys,  and  as  far  as 
the  admiral's  ship,  without  being  challenged.  For  a  few 
moments  he  thought  of  boldly  pushing  on  to  the  inner  part 
of  the  harbor,  where,  as  has  been  said,  the  remainder  of 
the  Athenian  fleet  was  lying  hauled  up  under  the  walls; 
but  when  he  was  hailed  by  a  voice  from  a  Spartan  ship, 
one  of  two  that  lay  almost  directly  in  his  way,  he 
abandoned  the  idea.  "Anaxilaus,  merchant  of  Cos,  to  see 
the  admiral,  on  business  of  importance,"  was  his  reply 
to  the  challenge.  At  the  last  moment  he  dropped  his 
anchor.  A  few  minutes  afterwards  he  came  on  board  the 
,  admiral's  galley  and  reported  himself  to  that  officer. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  Callicratidas — for  this  was  the 
admiral's  name — to  describe  him  as  a  model  Spartan.  He 
was  rather  a  model  Greek.    The  Spartans  had  great  virtues 


40  CALJalAS. 

which  howevei',  it  is  curious  to  observe,  seldom  survived 
transplantation  from  their  native  soil.  *  They  were  frugal, 
temperate,  and  just;  but  they  were  narrow  in  their  habits  of 
thought  and  their  conceptions  of  duty.  A  good  soldier  whose 
efficiency  was  not  diminished  by  any  vice  was  their  ideal 
man.  They  could  not  enter  into  any  large  and  hberal  views 
of  life.  And  their  views  of  statesmanship  whether  as  re- 
garded their  own  city  or  the  whole  race  in  general  were  as 
narrow  as  were  their  notions  of  private  virtue.  They  some- 
times showed  a  great  amount  of  diplomatic  skill,  a  strange 
contrast  with  the  bluntness  which  was  their  traditional 
charaeteristic,  but  of  wide  and  general  views  they  seem  to 
have  been  incapable.  Yet  Callicratidas  seems  to  have  been 
an  exception.  We  know  comparatively  little  about  him. 
He  emerges  from  absolute  obscurity  at  the  beginning  of  the 
year  with  which  my  story  opens,  and  it  is  only  for  a  few 
months  that  he  plays  a  conspicuous  part  in  history,  but 
from  now  up  to  the  hour  when  we  see  him  for  the  last 
time,  all  his  words  and  acts  are  marked  with  a  rare  nobility. 
It  was  not  difficult  for  Hippocles  to  invent  a  story  which 
should  account  for  his  presence  at  Mitylene.  The  domestic 
politics  of  almost  every  Greek  state  were  mixed  up  with  the 
great  struggle  that  was  going  on  between  Athens  and 
Sparta.  Everywhere  the  democratic  party  looked  to  Athens 
as  its  champion,  the  aristocratic  to  Sparta.  This  was  espe- 
cially true  of  the  states  which  were  called  the  allies  but  were 
really  the  subjects  or  tributaries  of  Athens.  A  turn  of  the 
political  wheels  that  brought  the  aristocrats    to    the   top 

*  The  instances  in  which  a  Spartan  general  sent  to  fill  some  office 
abroad  seemed  to  lose  all  self-restraint  and  all  sense  of  shame  are  deplora- 
bly numerous.  Pausanias,  the  Spartan  who  commanded  at  Platsea, 
and  was  afterwards  banished  for  treacherous  dealings  with  the  Persians, 
was  the  first  conspicuous  example  of  this  national  foiling,  as  it  may  be 
called'  but  it  was  an  example  often  followed.  The  Spartan  governors 
in  allied  or  conquered  cities  were  almost  proverbial  for  profligacy, 
tyranny  and  corruption. 


OALLJAS,  41 

was  commonly  followed  by  a  revolt  from  the  sovereign 
state;  when,  as  was  usually  the  case,  they  remained  under- 
neath, they  busied  themselves  in  plotting  for  a  change,  and 
their  first  step  was  to  open  communications  with  the  Spar- 
tan general  or  admiral  in  command. 

In  Cos  the  popular  or  pro-Athenian  party  was  in  the  as- 
cendant, and  their  opponents  were  weak.  The  fact  was 
that  the  Spartans  were  not  in  good  repute  there.  Six  years 
before  their  admiral  Astyochus  had  plundered  the  island 
laying  hands  impartially  on  the  property  of  friends 
and  of  foes.  Still  there  was  a  party  which  remained  faithful 
to  Sparta,  and  Hippocles  preferred  to  speak  as  their  repre- 
sentative. His  wide-spread  connections  as  a  merchant — 
and  Cos  had  a  large  trade  with  its  famous  vintages  and 
equally  famous  woven  stuffs — gave  him  a  knowledge  of  de- 
tails and  persons  that  would  have  deceived  a  far  more  acute 
and  suspicious  person  than  Callicratidas. 

The  merchant  began  the  conversation  by  ofTering 
the  admiral  a  present  of  wine,  and  one  of  those  almost 
transparent  robes  of  silk  that  were  a  specialty  of  the  island. 

"  I  will  not  be  so  churlish  as  to  refuse  what  you  have  the 
goodwill  to  offer  me, 'J  said  Callicratidas,  "but  you  must 
understand  that  I  do  not  accept  these  things  for  myself.  I 
accept  no  personal  gifts;  it  is  a  dangerous  practice,  and  has 
given  rise  to  much  scandal.  I  shall  send  them  to  Sparta,  and 
the  magistrates  will  dispose  of  them  as  they  think  fit.  What 
is  this?"  he  went  on,  taking  up  the  robe  and  holding  it 
between  his  eyes  and  the  lamp.  *'  What  do  you  use  it  for  ? 
for  straining  the  wine  ?  " 

Hippocles  explained  that  it  was  a  material  for  garments. 

"  Grarments! "  exclaimed  the  Spartan,  "  why,  we  might  as 
well  wear  a  spider's  web.  It  is  not  clothing  at  all.  It 
neither  warms  nor  covers.    Is  it  possible  that  there  are 


42  CALLIA.S. 

people  so  foolish  as  to  spend  their  money  on  it  ?  It  is  costly, 
I  suppose?" 

*'  As  you  ask  me,"  replied  Hippocles,  "  I  may  say  that  it 
costs  about  two  minas  a  yard." 

"  Two  minas  a  yard  ! "  cried  Callicratidas,  whose  Spartan 
frugality  was  scandalized  at  such  a  price.  "Why,"  he  added 
after  a  short  calculation,  "  it  is  very  nearly  a  seaman's  pay 
for  a  yejir,*are  there  many  who  buy  such  costly  stuflE"?  " 

"  A  dress  of  this  material  is  the  top  of  the  fashion  for  ladies 
in  Athens  and  Corinth." 

"  What?  "  said  the  Spartan,  "  do  women  wear  such  things? 
It  is  incredible.  I  have  always  thought  that  things  had 
changed  for  the  worse  at  home,  but  we  have  not  got 
so  far  as  that.    And  now  for  your  business. ' ' 

Hippocles  explained  that  there  was  a  dissatisfied  party  in 
Cos  w'hich  was  very  anxious  to  get  rid  of  Athenian  rule,  ' '  We 
are  not  strong  enough,  "  he  went  on,  "  to  do  it  of  ourselves, 
but  send  on  a  force  and  we  will  open  the  gates  to  you.  Cos 
is  a  strong  place  now,  since  the  Athenians  fortified  it,  and, 
I  should  think,  quite  worth  having." 

"And  if  we  put  you  in  power,"  said  the  admiral,  "you 
would  begin,  I  suppose,  by  putting  all  your  opponents  to 
death." 

Callicratidas  was  quite  a  different  person  from  what  Hip- 
pocles, with  his  former  experience  of  Spartans  in  command, 
had  expected  to  find.  His  disinterestedness,  simplicity  and 
directness  were  embarrassing,  and  made  him  not  a  little 
ashamed  of  the  part  that  he  was  playing.  He  would  have 
dearly  liked  to  speak  out  of  his  own  heart  to  a  man  who 
was  transparently  honest  and  well-meaning,  but  in  his 
position  it  was  impossible. 

*  A  seaman  was  paid  four  obols  a  day,  the  rate  having  been  increased 
by  the  liberality  of  Cyrus  from  three  to  four.  Six  obols  went  to  th0 
drachma,  and  a  hundred  drachmas  to  the  mina. 


CALLTAS,  ^     43 

"We  have,  as  you  may  suppose,  sir,"  he  said  in  answer  to 
this  last  suggestion,  "a  great  many  injuries  to  avenge,  but 
we  should  not  wish  to  do  anything  that  does  not  meet 
with  your  approval." 

"  The  whole  thing  does  not  meet  with  my  approval,"  said 
the  Spartan,  "  I  hate  these  perpetual  plots;  I  hate  to  see 
every  city  divided  against  itself,  and  see  the  big  persons  in 
Greece  hounding  them  on  to  bloody  deeds,  and  making  our 
own  gain  out  of  them.  I  wish  to  all  the  gods  that  I  could 
do  something  to  bring  this  wretched  war  to  an  end.  Why 
should  not  Athens  and  Sparta  be  friends  as  they  were  in  the 
old  days?  Surely  that  would  be  better  than  our  going  on 
flying  at  each  other's  throats  as  we  have  been  doing  for  now 
nearly  twenty  years  past,  while  the  Persian  stands  by,  and 
laughs  to  see  us  play  his  game.  Where  should  we  be — you 
seem  an  honest  man,  by  your  face,  though  I  cannot  say 
that  I  particularly  Uke  the  errand  on  which  you  have  come 
— where  should  we  be,  I  ask,  if  we  had  shown  this  accursed 
folly  twenty-odd  years  ago,  when  Xerxes  brought  up  aU 
Asia  against  us?  As  it  was  we  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
and  Greece  was  saved.  And  now  we  have  to  gocapin  hand, 
and  beg  of  the  very  Persians  who  are  only  biding  their  time 
to  make  slaves  of  us.  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  feel  hot  with  shame 
at  the  thought  of  what  I  have  had  myself  to  put  up  with  in 
this  way.  When  I  came  here  I  found  the  pay-chest  empty; 
I  don't  want  to  complain  of  anybody,  so  I  won't  say  how 
this  came  about;  but  that  was  the  fact,  it  was  empty;  the 
men  had  had  no  wages  for  some  time,  and  they  would  very 
soon  have  had  no  food.  I  asked  my  officers  for  advice. 
"'You  must  go  to  Cyrus,'  they  said,  'Cyrus  is  pay- 
master,'* It  was  a  bitter  draught  to  swallow,  but  I  managed 
to  get  it  down.    I  went  to  his  palace  at  Sardis,      *  Tell  your 

•  This  -was  the  prince  commonly  called  the  younger  Cjmis,  the  second 
of  the  two  sons  of  Darius    Nothus,    King  of  Persia, 


44    »  CALLIAS. 

master/  I  said  to  the  slave  who  came  to  the  door,  a  gorgeous 
creature  whose  dress  I  am.  sure  I  could  not  afford  to  buy, 
'  tell  your  master  that  Callicratidas,  admiral  of  the  Spartan 
fleet,  is  here,  and  wishes  to  si)eak  with  him.'  The  fellow 
left  me  standing  outside,  and  went  to  deliver  his  message. 
After  I  had  waited  till  my  patience  was  almost  exhausted, 
the  man  came  back,  and  said  '  Cyrus  is  not  at  leisure  to  see 
you.  He  is  drinking.'  Well,  I  put  up  with  that.  'Verj'' 
good,'  I  said,  '  I  will  wait  till  he  has  done  drinking.'  I 
thought  that  I  would  go  earlier  the  next  day,  though  even 
then  it  was  scarcely  an  hour  after  noon.  So  I  went  at  a 
time  when  I  thought  that  he  could  not  possibly  have  taken 
to  his  cups,  and  asked  again  to  see  him.  This  time  they  had 
not  the  grace  even  to  make  an  excuse.  '  Cyrus  is  not  at 
leisure  to  see  you,'  was  the  answer,  and  nothing  more. 
That  was  more  than  I  could  stand,  and  I  went  away.  I 
vowed  that  day,  and  believe  me  it  was  not  only  because  I 
had  myself  been  insulted,  that  if  I  lived  to  go  home,  I 
would  do  my  very  best  to  bring  Sparta  and  Athens  together 
again.  And  now,  sir,  as  to  your  business.  I  will  send 
home  a  report  of  what  you  say.  If  the  authorities  direct  me 
to  take  any  action  in  the  matter,  I  shall  do  my  best  to  take 
it  with  effect,  but  I  teU  you  frankly  that  this  idea  does  not 
commend  itself  to  me,  and  let  me  give  you  a  bit  of  advice: 
do  your  best  to  make  peace  in  your  city,  as  I  shall  do  my 
best  to  make  peace  in  Greece.  Depend  upon  it,  that  if  we 
don't,  we  shall  have  some  one  coming  down  upon  us  from 
outside.  It  may  be  the  Persian,  though  he  does  not  seem 
to  me  to  have  improved  as  a  soldier;  it  may  be  the  Mace- 
donian, who  is  a  sturdy  fellow,  and  helps  us  already  to  fight 
our  battles.  Whoever  it  is  he  will  find  us  helj)less  with  an 
endless  quarrel  and  will  make  short  work  with~  us.  And 
now  good  night." 


CALLIAS.  46 

Hippocles  left  the  Spartan  admiral  full  ofadmiration  for  his 
manly  and  patriotic  temper,  and  not  at  all  pleased  that  he 
had  been  obliged  to  play  a  false  part  with  a  man  so  trans- 
parently honest. 

About  an  hour  after  midnight  the  harbor  was  alarmed  by 
the  cry  that  the  ship  from  Cos  had  parted  from  her  moor- 
ings. Hippocles  had  taken  advantage  of  a  temporary  in- 
crease in  the  force  of  the  wind  to  cut  his  cables,  and  to 
drift  toward  the  Athenian  part  of  the  harbor.  Nobody  was 
able  to  answer  the  cry  for  help,  even  if  it  had  not  been 
purposely  raised  too  late.  The  Skylark  had  run  the  blockade, 
and  Conon  knew  that  he  was  to  be  relieved. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

ARGINTTSJE. 

At  Athens,  meanwhile,  the  relieving  fleet  was  being 
fitted  out  with  a  feverish  energy  such  as  had  never  been 
witnessed  within  the  memory  of  man.  Nine  years  before, 
indeed,  preparations  on  a  larger  scale,  if  cost  and  magnifi- 
cence are  to  be  taken  into  account,  had  been  made  for  the 
disastrous  expedition  against  Syracuse;  but  there  was  all  the 
difference  in  the  world  between  the  temper  of  the  city  at 
the  one  time  and  at  the  other.  Athens  was  at  the  height  of 
her  strength  and  her  wealth  when  she  sent  out  her  armar 
ment,  splendid,  so  to  speak,  with  silver  and  gold,  against 
Syracuse.  It  was  a  mighty  effort,  but  she  did  it,  one  may 
almost  say,  out  of  the  superfluity  of  her  strength.  Now  she 
was  sadly  reduced  in  population  and  in  revenue;  she  was 
struggling  Hot  for  conquest  but  for  life;  she  was  making  her 
last  effort,  and  spending  on  it  her  last  talent,  her  last  man. 
To  find  a  juster  parallel  it  would  have  been  necessary  to  go 
back  a  life-time,  to  the  day  when  the  Athenians  gave  up 
their  homes  and  the  temples  of  their  gods  to  the  Persian  in- 
vaders, falling  back  on  their  last  defences,  the  "wooden 
walls  "  of  their  ships.  Many  men  had  heard  from  father  or 
grandfather,  it  was  just  possible  that  one  or  two  tottering 
veterans  may  have  seen  with  their  own  eyes,  haw  on  that 
day  a  band  of  youths,  the  very  flower  of  the  Athenian  aris- 
tocracy, headed  by  Cimon,the  son  of  Miltiades,  had  marched 


CALLIAS.  47 

with  a  gay  alacrity  through  the  weeping  multitude,  to  hang 
up  their  bridles  in  the  temple  of  Athene.  For  the  time  the 
goddess  needed  not  horsemen  but  seamen,  and  they  gave 
her  the  service  that  she  asked  for.  Now  the  same  sight' was 
seen  again.  Again  the  knights,  the  well-bom  and  wealthy 
citizens  of  Athens,  dedicated  their  bridles  to  the  patron 
goddess,  and  went  to  serve  as  mariners  on  board  the  fleet. 
Every  ship  that  could  float  was  hastily  repaired  and 
equipped.  Old  hulks  that  had  been  lying  in  dock  since  the 
palmy  days  when  the  veteran  Phormiou  *  led  the  fleet  of 
Athens  to  certain  victory,  were  launched  again  and  manned. 
In  this  way  the  almost  unprecedented  number  f  of  one  hun- 
dred and  ten  triremes  were  got  ready.  To  man  these  a  gen- 
eral levy  of  the  population  was  made.  Everyone  within 
the  age  of  service  not  actually  disabled  by  sickness,  was 
taken  to  form  the  crews,  and  not  a  few  who  had  passed  the 
limit  volunteered.  Even  then  the  quota  had  to  be  made  up 
by  slaves,  who  were  promised  their  freedom  in  return  for 
their  services.  It  was  a  stupendous  eflbrt,  and  one  which 
Athens  made  with  her  own  strength.  These  were  not  mer- 
cenaries, but  her  own  sons  whom  she  was  sending  out  to 
make  their  last  struggle  for  life.  Night  and  day  the  prepa- 
rations were  carried  on,  and  before  a  month  was  out  from  the 
day  on  which  the  tidings  of  the  disaster  at  Mitylene  reached 
the  city,  the  fleet  was  ready  to  sail.  Its  destination  was 
6amoB,  an  island  that  had  remained  faithful  to  Athens 
even  after  the  disastrous  end  of  the  war  in  Sicily.  Here  it 
was  joined  by  a  contingent  of  forty  ships,  made  up  of  the 
same  squadron  scattered  about  the  .^gean,  the  two  triremes 

*  Phormion  won  some  brilliant  victories  In  the  Corinthian  gulf  In  the 
early  years  of  the  war.  He  died  prematurely,  it  would  seem  about 
429  B.  C. 

t  The  number  of  triremes  contributed  by  Athens  to  the  Greek  fleet  of 
Salamis  was  one  hundred  and  eighty,  but  this  comprised,  of  course, 
literally  every  ship  that  they  possessed.  In  the  expedition  against 
Syracuse,  the  triremes  numbered  one  hundred  and  thirty-four. 


48  CALLIAS. 

of  Diomedon  *  being  among  th^m,  Diomedon  was  related 
to  Callias,  and  the  young  man  asked  and  obtained  leave 
from  the  captain  with  whom  he  had  sailed  from  Athens  to 
transfer  himself  to  his  ship. 

A  battle  was  imminent.  The  Spartan  admiral  had  left 
fifty  ships  to  maintain  the  blockade  of  Mitylene,  and  sailed 
to  meet  the  reUeving  force.  His  numbers  were  inferior,  but 
pride,  and  perhaps  poUcy,  forbade  him  to  decline  the  com- 
bat. He  had  made  a  haughty  boast  to  Conon,  and  he  had 
to  make  it  good.  **  The  sea  is  Sparta's  bride,"  he  had  said. 
"  I  will  stop  your  insults  to  her."  His  fleet  was  now  oflf 
Cape  Malta,  the  south-eastern  promontory  of  Lesbos.  The 
Athenians  had  taken  up  their  position  at  some  little  islands 
between  it  and  the  mainland,  the  Arginusse,  or  White  Cliffs, 
as  the  name  may  be  translated,  a  name  destined  to  become 
notable  as  the  scene  of  the  great  city's  last  victory. 

Callicratidas  had  watched  the  arrival  of  the  Athenians, 
and  had  concluded  that,  according  to  the  usual  custom  of 
Greek  sailors,  they  would  take  their  evening  meal  on  shore. 
Before  long  the  fires  lighted  over  all  the  group  of  islets 
showed  that  he  was  right.  His  own  men  had  supped,  and 
they  were  ordered  to  embark  in  all  haste  and  make  an 
attack  which  would  probably  be  a  surprise.  What  success 
his  bold  and  energetic  action  would  have  had  we  can  only 
guess.  The  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against  htm.  A 
violent  thunderstorm  with  heavy  rain  came  on,  and  pre- 
vented htm  from  putting  to  sea. 

The  next  day  was  fine  and  cahn  and  the  two  fleets  were 

*  Diomedon  was  the  officer  in  command  of  Samos,  and  tiad  already- 
attempted  witli  tiie  twelve  ships  that  composed  his  squadron,  to  relieve 
Conon.  His  force  was  so  inferior  to  that  of  the  Spartans  that  he  could 
^  only  have  hoped  to  succeed  by  eluding  their  observations.  Accordingly 
he  had  avoided  the.  harbors  and  endeavored  to  make  his  way  up  a  nar- 
row channel,  known  by  the  common  name  of  "  Euripus  "  (a  channel 
with  a  swift  current)  by  whicli  Mitylene  could  be  approached.  Calli- 
cratidBs,  however,  had  discovered  the  maneuver  and  captured  ten  out 
of  the  twelve  ships. 


f'ALLIAS.  49 

early  afloat.  Their  arrangement  and  plan  of  action  showed  a 
curious  contrast,  a  contrast  such  as  was  almost  enough  to 
make  one  of  the  great  Athenian  seamen  of  the  past  turn  in 
his  grave.  The  Athenian  ships  were  massed  together;  the 
Spartans  and  their  allies  were  formed  in  a  single  line. 
Callias,  who  had  never  before  been  present  at  a  great  sea- 
fight,  but  who  had  taken  pains  to  acquire  as  much  profes- 
sional knowledge  as  he  could,  expressed  his  surprise  to 
Diomedon.  "  Howis  this,  sir?"  he  said,  "  how  can  our  ships 
maneuver  when  they  are  packed  together  in  this  fashion  ?  " 

Diomedon,  an  old  sailor  who  had  been  afloat  for  nearly 
forty  years,  smiled  somewhat  bitterly  as  he  answered. 

"  Maneuver,  my  dear  boy !  That  is  exactly  what  we 
want  to  avoid.  We  can't  do  it  ourselves,  and  we  don't 
mean  to  let  our  enemies  do  it,,  if  it  can  be  helped.  The  gen- 
eration that  could  maneuver  is  gone.  Five  and  twenty 
years  of  fighting  have  used  it  up.  But,  happily,  we  can  still 
fight,  at  least  such  a  fleet  as  we  have  got  to-day,  the  real 
Athenian  grit,  can  fight.  If  the  weather  holds  fine,  and  I 
think  it  will  for  the  day,  though  I  don't  quite  like  the  looks 
of  the  sky,  we  shall  do  well,  because  we  shall  be  able  to 
keep  together." 

The  arrangement  of  the  Athenian  line  may  be  very  briefly 
described.  It  had  two  strong  wings,  each  consisting  of  sixty 
ships,  formed  in  four  squadrons  of  fifteen.  These  wings 
consisted  wholly  of  Athenian  galleys;  the  contingents  of  the 
allies  were  posted  in  the  centre,  and  were  in  single  line, 
either  because  they  were  better  sailors,  or  because,  as  being 
directly  in  front  of  the  group  of  islets,  they  were  protected 
by  their  position.  ^ 

The  policy  of  the  Athenian  commander  was  sucoessftil. 
Arginusse  was  not  a  battle  of  skillful  maneuvers,  but  of 
hard  fighting.    Such  battles  are  often  determined  by  the 


60  CALL  I  AS. 

fate  of  the  general,  and  so  it  was  that  day.  Callicratidas, 
had  that  pride  of  valor  which  liad  often  done  such  great 
things  for  Sparta  and  for  Greece,  but  which  some  times  re- 
sulted in  immediate  disaster.  His  sailing  master,  a  man 
of  Megara,  had  advised  him  to  decline  a  battle.  A  rapid 
survey  of  tlie  position,  of  the  numlJers  of  the  enemy  and  of 
the  tactics  which  they  were  evidently  intending  to  pursue, 
had  convinced  this  skillful,  experienced  seaman,  that  the 
chances  were  against  him.  CaUicratidas  would  not  listen 
to  him.  "If  I  perish,"  he  said,  "Sparta  will  not  be  one 
whit  the  worse  off."  It  was  the  answer  of  a  man  who  was 
as  modest  as  he  was  brave;  but  it  was  not  to  the  point. 
Sparta  would  be  a  great  deal  worse  off  if  she  lost  not  only 
him — and  he  was  worth  considering — but,  as  actually  hap- 
pened, nearly  the  half  of  her  fleet. 

The  signal  to  advance  was  passed  along  the  line,  and  the 
admiral  himself  took  up  his  place  in  the  foremost  ship. 
The  whole  fleet  could  see  him  as  he  stood  a  conspicuous 
figure  in  the  lead.  His  stately  and  chivalrous  presence,  the 
feeling  that  it  was  a  privilege  to  follow  him  anywhere, 
gave,  for  a  time,  an  effective  encouragement.  But  the 
loss  was  proportionately  great  when  that  presence  was 
removed.  Early  in  the  day  his  ship  endeavored  to  ram 
that  which  carried  the  Athenian  admiral  Diomedon,  itself 
in  the  van  of  the  opposing  force.  Diomedon  himself  was  at 
the  rudder  and  managed  his  galley  with  remarkable  skill. 
He  avoided  or  rather  half  avoided  the  blow  of  the  enemy's 
boat,  and  this  in  such  a  way  that  the  Spartan  admiral  lost 
his  balance,  and  fell  into  the  water.  Callias,  who  was  stand- 
ing on  the  rear  of  the  Athenian  galley,  at  the  head  of  a 
detachment  of  men  ready  either  to  board  or  to  repel  boarders, 
endeavored  to  save  him;  but  the  weight  of  his  armor  was 
fatal.    He  sank  almost  instantaneously.    His  death,  it  is 


CALLIAS.  51 

easy  to  believe,  cost  Athens  even  more  than  it  cost  Sparta. 
It  would  have  been  infinitely  better  for  her  to  fall  into  his 
hands  than  to  have  to  sue  for  terms,  as  she  did  not  many 
months  afterwards,  to  the  less  generous  Lysander. 

The  battle  lasted  for  several  hours.  About  noon  the 
weather  became  threatening.  The  wind  changed  to  the 
south-west  and  the  sea  began  to  rise.  By  general  consent 
the  struggle  was  suspended.  Both  sides  had  fought  with 
conspicuous  valor,  but  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  vic- 
tory remained  with  the  Athenians.  Their  losses  were  serious, 
nearly  a  fifth  of  their  force,  or  to  give  the  numbers  exactly, 
twenty-nine  ships  out  of  one  hundred  and  fifty.  But  they 
had  inflicted  much  more  damage  than  they  had  suffered. 
Out  of  the  small  squadron  of  Spartan  ships,  ten  in  number, 
nine  had  been  destroyed;  and  more  than  sixty  belonghig  to 
the  various  allied  contingents  were  either  sunk  or  taken. 
The  fifty  that  remained— and  there  were  barely  fifty  of 
them— made  the  best  of  their  way  either  to  the  friendly 
island  of  Chios,  or  to  Phocsea  on  the  mainland.  Without 
doubt  the  Athenians  had  won  a  great  victory.  Whether 
the  opportunity  could  have  been  used  to  restore  permanently 
the  fortunes  of  the  city,  is  doubtfUl;  but  it  is  certain  that  it 
was  lamentably  wasted. 


CHAPTER  YII. 

AFTER  THE  FIGHT. 

A  COUNCIL  of  war  was  held  by  the  Athenian  admirals  on 
one  of  the  Arginusse  islets  as  soon  as  they  could  meet  after 
the  fighting  had*  come  to  an  end.  Callias,  by  Diomedon's 
desire,  waited  outside  the  tent  in  which  the  deliberations 
were  being  held,  and  could  not  help  hearing,  so  high  were 
the  voices  of  the  speakers  raised,  that  there  was  an  angry 
argument  about  the  course  to  be  pursued.  Tlie  intolerably 
clumsy  system  of  having  ten  generals  of  equal  authority 
was  on  its  trial,  if  indeed  any  trial  was  needed,  and  was  once 
more  found  wanting.  *  Even  if  the  right  decision  should  be 
reached,  time  was  being  wasted,  time  that,  as  we  shall  see, 
was  of  a  value  absolutely  incalculable. 

When  at  last  the  council  broke  up — its  deUberations  had 
.  lasted  for  more  than  an  hour — and  Diomedon  rejoined  the 
young  officer,  he  wore  a  gloomy  and  anxious  look. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  that  mischief  will  come  of  this. 

I  feel  it  so  strongly  that,  though  I  ought  not,  perhaps,  to 

tell  outside  the  council  what  has  been  going  on  within,  I 

must  call  you  to  witness.    I  did  my  very  best  to  persuade  my 

colleagues.  '  Our  first  business,'  I  said, '  is  to  save  our  friends. 

*  I  may  refer  my  readers  to  a  signal  instance  in  earlier  Greek  hIstor>' 
where  the  same  system  almost  led  to  disaster.  It  was  only  by  the  un- 
usual personal  influence  of  Miltiades,  a  personal  influence  almost  un- 
paralleled in  Athenian  history,  that  thus  the  ten  generals  were  induced 
to  fight  at  Marathon.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that,  if  the  conflict 
had  been  delayed  the  pro-Persian  party  might  have  seriously  hampered, 
if  it  did  not  altogether  defeat  the  efforts  of  the  patriots. 


CALLIAS.  .  5S 

There  were  twenty-six  ships, 'I  said, 'disabled.  A  few  were 
sunk  on  the  spot;  others,  I  am  afraid,  have  gone  down  since; 
but  more  than  half,  I  hope,  are  still  afloat.  Even  where  the 
ship  is  gone  already,  there  are  surie  to  be  some  of  the  crew 
who  have  been  able  to  keep  themselves  afloat  either  by 
swinuning  or  by  holding  on  to  floating  stuff.  For  the  sake 
of  the  gods,  gentlemen,' — I  give  you  my  very  words — 'don't 
lose  another  moment.  We  have  lost  too  many  already. 
Send  every  seaworthy  ship  that  you  have  got  to  the  rescue 
of  the  shipwrecked.  It  is  better  to  let  ten  enemies  escape, 
than  lose  a  single  friend.'  They  would  not  listen  to  me. 
They  were  bent,  they  said,  on  following  up  their  victory, 
an  excellent  thing,  I  allow;  but  only  when  the  first  duty  of 
making  all  that  you  have  got  quite  safe  has  been  performed. 
One  of  thenx — I  will  mention  no  names — ^positively  insulted 
me.  'Diomedon,'  he  said,  'has  doubtless  had  enough  fighting 
for  the  day.'  Why,  in  the  name  of  Athene,  do  they  put  such 
lowbred  villains  into  oflftce.  The  fellow  has  a  long  tongue, 
and  so  the  people  elect  him.  I  *  tired  of  fighting '  indeed?  I 
might  have  some  excuse  if  I  were,  for  I  was  hard  at  it,  when 
he  was  a  thievish  boy,  picking  up  unconsidered  trifles  in  the 
market-place.  Well ;  the  end  of  it  was  that  we  came  to  a  sort  of 
compromise.  Forty-odd  ships  are  to  go  and  save  what  can  be 
saved  from  the  wrecks — the  gods  only  know  how  many  will 
be  left  by  this  time — ^while  the  rest  are  to  make  the  best  of  their 
way  to  Mitylene,  and  cut  off  the  blockading  squadron." 

"  And  you,  sir? "  asked  Callias,  "with  which  squadron 
are  you  to  be?" 

"  I  am  to  go  to  Mitylene,  of  course,  after  what  that  fellow 
said,  I  could  not  ask  to  have  the  other  duty;  but  I  feel  that 
it  is  what  I  ought  to  be  doing. " 

"Who  is  to  have  it,  sir,"  said  Callias. 

"  No  one,  if  you  will  believe  it,"  answered  the  admiral, 


54  CALL  I  AS. 

with  an  angry  stamp  of  the  foot.  '*  I  mean  no  one  of 
ourselves,  of  the  Ten.  They  are  all  so  anxious  to  follow  up 
the  victory,  as  they  put  it,  and  make  a  great  show  of  taking 
Spartan  sliips,  that  they  will  not  take  the  trouble.  Thera- 
menes  and  Thrasybulus  are  to  do  it.  I  know  that  they 
have  been  in  command  in  former  years  and  may  be  supposed 
to  be  competent.  Thrasybulus,  too,  is  trustworthy;  but 
Theramenes — to  put  it  plainly — ^is  a  scoundrel.  You  know 
that  I  don't  care  about  politics;  I  am  a  plain  sailor  and 
leave  such  things  to  others;  but  I  say  this,  pohtics  or  no 
politics,  a  man  who  turns  against  his  friends  is  a  scoundrel.* 
I  don't  know  what  trick  he  is  not  capable  of  playing.  Any- 
how, whether  these  two  do  the  business  ill  or  well,  one  of 
the  Ten  ought  to  go.  It  would  be  better;  and  I  am  sure 
trouble  will  come  of  our  not  going.  Mind  this  is  all  in  con- 
fidence. You  are  never  to  breathe  a  word  of  it,  till  I  give 
you  leave." 

"And  am  I  to  go  with  you,  sir?  "  said  CalUas, 

"  No,"  was  the  answer;  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you;  the  worry  of 
all  this  put  it  out  of  my  mind.  You  are  to  take  the  despatcli 
to  Athens." 

"  But  the  shipwrecked  men  " — exclaimed  Callias. 

"  We  must  obey  orders." 

An  hour  afterward  Callias  was  on  His  way  to  Athens;  the 
storm  had  now  increased  to  something  like  a  gale.  As 
the  waves  came  from  the  south  it  was  impossible  to  take  a 
straight  course  for  the  point  in  view,  lying  as  it 
did  almost  due  west:  Few  ships  in  those  days  could 
keep    a    straight    Mne    with    the    v/ind    on    the     quar- 

*  Theramenes  had  taken  a  prominent  part  four  years  before  this  date 
in  tlie  establishment  of  the  oligarchy  of  the  Four  Hundred;  finding  that 
his  own  position  was  not  such  asiie  conceived  to  be  suited  to  his  merits, 
and  having  reason  also  to  believe  that  the  oligarchy  would  soon  be 
overthrown — the  fleet  had  declared  against  them — he  changed  sides, 
and  was  the  means  of  bringing  up  the  condemnation  of  two  of  his  own 
intimate  friends,  Antiphon  and  Archeptolemus. 


CALLIAS.  55 

ter.*  Indeed  it  was  soon  impossible  to  keep  up  any 
sail  at  all,  nor  was  it  safe,  even  if  the  strength  of  the  rowers 
already  wearied  by  the  labors  of  the  day  had  permitted  it, 
to  keep  the  ship  broadside  to  the  waves.  Nothing  femained 
but  to  put  her  about  and  drive  before  the  wind,  a  sail  being 
now  hoisted  again  and  the  rowers  exerting  themselves  to 
the  utmost  to  avoid  being  "pooped"  by  the  heavy  waves. 
Toward  morning  the  wind  moderated,  but  by  that  time  the 
Swallow,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the  despatch-boat  which 
had  been  told  off  for  the  service,  had  been  driven  as  much 
as  fifty  miles  out  of  her  course.  This  would  not  have  been  of 
much  consequence,  but  that  the  timber  of  the  Swallow  had 
been  so  strained  by  her  battle  with  the  sea  that  she  began  to 
leak  inconveniently,  if  not  dangerously.  Her  crew,  too, 
were  now  in  urgent  need  of  rest.  Under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, Chios,  which  could  be  seen,  as  the  day  broke,  about 
ten  miles  on  the  right  bow,  would  have  afforded  a  con- 
venient shelter;  but  Chios  was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
The  little  island  of  Vara,  lying  some  ten  miles  to  the  north- 
west, was  the  only  alternative.  Here  CaUias,  much  against 
his  will,  for  he  feared  that  his  news  would  be  anticipated, 
was  compelled  to  stop,  the  captain  of  the  despatch-boat 
refusing  to  proceed,  until  vessel  and  men  were  better  able  to 
face  the  weather. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  delay  did  no  harm.  In  fact  It  was 
the  means  of  his  reaching  Athens  with  more  speed  and 
safety  than  he  might  otherwise  have  done.  A  day  indeed 
was  lost  in  doing  such  repairs  as  the  imperfect  resources  of 

*  Catullus  mentions  it  as  a  special  excellence  of  his  yacht  that  it 
could 

"  Carry  its  load  o'er  stormy  seas 
Whether  from  right  or  left  the  breeze 
Call  o'er  the  main,  as  safe  and  fleet 
Over  course,  as  when,  on  either  sheet 
With  equal  strength  blew  fair  behind, 
With  level  keel  the  following  wind." 


56  CALLIAS. 

the  little  island  permitted,  but  on  the  naorrow,  Callias 
set  out  again,  and  was  groaning  over  the  day  that 
had  been  lost,  and  the  very  little  good  that  the  clumsy 
boat-builders  had  been  able  to  do  for  him,  when  he  found 
himself  being  rapidly  overhauled  by  a  vessel  which  had  not 
long  before  hove  in  sight.  Before  noon  he  recognized  the 
cut  of  the  disguised  Skylark,  and  at  once  ran  up  a  signal 
which  Hippocles  whom  he  supposed  to  be  on  board  would, 
he  knew,  recognize.  The  signal  was  immediately  answered, 
and  before  another  half  hour  had  passed  the  Skylark  was 
along-side.  After  a  brief  coUoquy  it  was  arranged  that  the 
Swallow  should  make  the  best  of  her  way  to  Samos,  where 
there  was  an  arsenal  in  which  she  could  be  properly  repaired 
and  that  Callias  with  his  despatches  should  take  his  passage 
to  Athens  in  the  yacht. 

Hippocles  was  acquainted  with  the  general  fact  that  the 
Athenian  fleet  had  won  a  great  victory  ;  but  he  knew  no  de-^ 
tails,  and  was  eager  to  hear  from  the  lips  of  one  who  had 
taken  a  part  in  the  action.  And  he  had  much  that  was  in- 
teresting to  say  to  his  young  friend.  The  three  weeks  which 
he  had  spent  in  Mitylene  with  the  blockaded  squadron  had 
not  made  him  hopeful  about  the  first  issue  of  the  war.  He 
had  found  that  Conon  was  not  hopeful,  and  Conon  was  as 
able  and  inteUigent  an  officer  as  Athens  had  in  her  service. 

"  This  has  been  a  stupendous  efibrt  on  the  part  of  the 
city,"  he  said,  "  and  it  has  saved  us  for  a  time,  but  it  can't 
be  kept  up  and  it  can't  be  repeated.  Athens  is  like  a  gambler 
reduced  to  his  last  stake.  He  wins  it;  very  good.  But  then 
he  has  to  throw  again;  and  as  often  as  he  throws,  it  is  the 
same — ^if  he  loses,  he  loses  all.  And,  sooner  or  later,  lose  he 
naust.  In  the  long  run  the  chances  are  against  us.  We  have 
lost  our  morale.  I  saw  a  goiod  deal  of  Conon's  men  when  I 
was  shut  up,  and  I  thought  very  badly  of4.hem;  and  he 


CALLIAS.  SJ 

thinks  badly,  too,  I  know.  It  is  only  a  question  of  time. 
Do  you  know,"  he  went  on,  sinking  his  voice  to  a  whisper 
— "  and  mark  you,  this  is  a  thing  that  I  should  not  venture 
to  say  to  anyone  in  the  world  but  you — I  am  half  inclined 
to  wish  that  we  had  been  beaten  in  the  last  battle — that  is,  if 
Callicratidas  had  lived.  A  noble  fellow  indeed !  Do  you 
know  that  he  let  the  Athenians  whom  he  took  at 
Methymna  go  on  their  parole  ?  Any  one  else  would  have 
sold  them  for  slaves."  ' 

"Well,"  said  Callias,  who  was  a  little  staggered  by  his 
friend's  view  of  affairs,  "as  your  hero  is  drowned — mind 
that  I  quite  agree  in  what  you  say  of  him — perhaps  it  is 
better  that  things  have  turned  out  as  they  have.  And  I 
can't  beUeve  that  our  chances  are  as  bad  as  you  make  out. 
Anyhow  we  are  better  off  than  when  I  saw  you  last." 

"  I  hope  so;  I  hope  so";  said  Hippocles  in  a  despondent 
tone.  "  But  they  might  have  done  better.  For  instance, 
we  have  let  the  blockading  squadron  at  Mitylene  escape." 

"  How  was  that?  "  asked  Callias.  "  Did  you  see  nothing 
of  our  fleet.    It  was  to  sail  northward  at  once." 

* '  No — I  never  saw  or  heard  of  it.  Now  listen  to  what  hap- 
pened. On  the  day  after  the  battle — though  of  course  I  knew 
nothing  of  what  happened — two  despatch-boats  came  into  the 
harbor — so  at  least  everyone  thought — and  the  second  had 
wreaths  on  mast  and  stem,  as  if  it  had  brought  good  news. 
And  Eteonicus— he  was  in  command  of  the  blockading  squad- 
ron— ^was  good  enough  to  send  usaherald  with  the  intelligence 
that  CaUicratidas  had  won  a  great  seafight,and  that  the  whole 
of  the  Athenian  fleet  had  been  destroyed.  Of  course  we  did  not 
quite  believe  that,  but  if  only  a  quarter  of  it  was  true,  itwasnot 
pleasant  hearing.  My  old  sailing  master,  who  has  as  sharp 
eyesas  any  man  I  know,  said  to  me.  'My  beUef,  sir,  is  that  it  is 
all  nonsense  about  this  great  victory,  and  that  the  second  boat 


58  CALLIAS. 

was  only  the  first  dressed  up.  I  observed  them  both  particu- 
larly, and  they  were  amazingly  aUke.  In  both  the  bow 
side  oars  were  just  a  little  behind  the  stroke,  and  one  of  the 
oars,  I  noticed,  was  a  new  one,  and  not  painted  like  the  rest. 
And  why  should  the  man  take  the  trouble  to  tell  us  about 
the  victory  as  he  calls  it.  If  it  is  true,  he  has  us  safe,  and 
ean  cut  us  up  at  his  leisure.  No,  sir,  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  it.'  Well,  I  was  not  certain  that  the  old  man  was  right, 
but  I  strongly  suspected  that  he  was.  Anyhow  I  was  so  con- 
vinced of  it  that  I  spent  the  whole  night  in  getting  ready; 
and,  sure  enough,  the  next  morning  the  blockading  squad- 
ron had  sUpped  off,  with  nobody  to  hinder  them." 
"  That  was  a  very  smart  trick  for  a  Spartan,"  said  Callias. 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

THE  NEWS  AT  ATHENS. 

The  Skylark  excelled  herself  in  the  display  of  her  sailing 
qualities.  Thanks  to  this,  Callias,  in  spite  of  the  untoward 
delays  which  had  occurred  on  his  journey,  was  the  first  to 
bring  intelligence  of  the  victory  to  Athens.  The  news  ran 
like  wild  fire  through  the  city,  gathering,  as  may  be  sup- 
posed, a  vast  nunaber  of  imaginary  details,  as  it  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  and  the  assembly  which  was  called  by 
proclamation  for  the  next  day,  to  hear  the  reading  of  the 
despatches,  was,  considering  the  empty  condition  of  the 
dty,  most  unusually  crowded.  No  one  who  could  crawl  to 
the  market-place  was  absent,  and  all  the  entrances  and  aj)- 
proaches  were  thronged  by  women,  children,  and  slaves. 
The  first  stress  of  fear  had  been  relieved,  for  it  was  known 
that  a  victory  had  been  won;  but  there  was  still  much  room 
for  anxiety.  The  victory  had  not  been  gained  without  cost 
— ^no  victories  ever  were — and  it  was  only  too  probable  that 
in  this  case  the  cost  had  been  heavy.  The  despatch  was 
brief  and  formal.  It  told  the  numbers  engaged,  and  the 
order  of  formation,  with  the  number  of  hostile  veasels  cap- 
tured or  sunk.  It  mentioned  the  fact  that  there  liad  been 
losses  on  the  side  of  the  conquerors,  and  promised  details 
when  there  should  have  been  time  to  ascertain  the  facts. 

After  the  assembly  had  been  dismissed,  Callias  was  ovw- 
whelmed  with  enquiries.    To  these  he  thought  it  well  to 


60  CALLIA8. 

return  very  vagiie  answers.  The  fact  was  that  there  was 
much  that  he  knew  and  much  that  he  did  not  know.  He 
knew  the  name  of  more  than  one  of  the  ships  that  had  been 
sunk  or  disabled.  Two  or  three  had  been  run  down  before 
his  eyes.  About  others  he  had  information  ahnost  equally 
certain.  He  could  have  told  some  of  his  questioners  what 
would  have  confirmed  their  worst  fears.  On  the  other  hand 
he  could  not  give  anything  like  a  complete  list  of  the  losses. 
Somie  enquirers  he  could  reassure.  He  had  seen  or  even 
talked  to  their  friends  after  the  battle.  All  the  admirals,  he 
knew,  were  safe.  And  steps,  he  was  sure,  had  been  taken 
to  rescue  the  shipwrecked  crews.  On  the  subject  of  Diome- 
don's  fears  he  preserved  absolute  silence.  If  any  disaster 
had  happened,  it  was  only  too  sure  to  be  heard  of  before 
long. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  of  assembly  a  great  banquet 
was  held  in  the  Prytaneum,  or  Town-hall  of  Athens.  Such  a 
banquet  was  always  an  interesting  sight,  and  on  this  occa- 
sion Callias,  as  he  witnessed  it  for  the  first  time,  also  saw 
it  to  the  very  greatest  advantage.  All  the  public  guests  * 
of  the  city  that  were  not  absent  on  active  service  or  were  not 
positively  hindered  from  coming  by  age  or  infirmity  were 
present.  The  ranks  of  these  veterans  were  indeed  sadly 
thinned.  The  war  had  been  curiously  deadly  to  officers 
high  in  conmiand.  The  fatal  expedition  to  Sicily  had 
swept  off  many  of  the  most  distinguished.  Others  had 
fallen  in  the  "  little  wars  "  in  which  Athens  like  all  states 
that  have  wide  dominions  had  been  perpetually  involved. 
One  famous  survivor  of  a  generation  that  had  long  since 
passed  away  was  there,  Myronides,  the  victor  of  CEnophyta. 

*  Persons  who  had  rendered  distinguished  services  to  their  country 
in  peace  or  war  received,  among  other  rewards,  the  privilege,  lasting 
for  life,  of  dining  in  the  Town  hall.  The  city  had  no  greater  honor  to 
beetow. 


CALLIA8.  r>l 

The  old  man  had  been  bom  in  the  Marathon  year,  and  was 
therefore  now  eighty-four.  His  life,  it  will  be  seen,  embraced 
with  remarkable  exactitude  the  period  of  the  greatness  of 
Athens.  The  victory  that  had  made  him  famous  had  been 
won  fifty-one  years  before,  and  had  been,  so  to  speak,  the 
"  high  water  mark  "  of  Athenian  dominion.*  He  had  lived 
to  see  almost  its  lowest  ebb,  though  happily  for  himself  as  he 
died  before  the  year  was  out,  he  was  spared  from  seeing  the 
absolute  ruin  of  his  country.  Callias  was  distantly  related 
to  him  and  was  on  terms  of  as  close  a  friendship  as  the  dif- 
ference of  age  permitted  with  his  son  Eteonicus,  one  of  the 
ablest  and  most  patriotic  statesmen  of  the  time.  After  the 
libation  which  was  the  usual  signal  for  the  wine  drinking, 
had  been  poured,  the  old  man  rose  from  his  place,  as  his 
habit  was,  and  walked  down  the  hall,  touching  our  hero  on 
his  shoulder  as  he  passed. 

"Come,"  he  said,as  Callias  looked  up,  "if  you  can  spare  half 
an  hour  from  the  wine  cup  to  bear  an  old  man  company." 

The  young  man  immediately  left  his  place  and  accom- 
panied the  veteran  to  one  of  the  small  chambers  leading 
firom  the  hall. 

"  And  now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  he  said,  when  they  were 
seated. 

Callias  gave  him  as  full  an  account  as  he  could  of  all  that 
he  had  seen  during  the  campaign.  Myronides  plied  \\\m 
with  questions  that  showed  an  intelligence  of  unabated  vigor. 
The  armament  and  saiUng  qualities  of  the  ships,  the  mwcUe 
a.ndi  physique  of  the  crews,  every  detail,  in  fact,  that  con- 
cerned the  efficiency  of  the  force  that  Athens  had  in  the 
field,  were  subjects  of  liveliest  interest  to  the  old  man. 
When  he  had  heard  all  that  his  young  kinsman  had  to  say, 

*  It  had  brought  about  for  a  time  the  subJccUoa  of  all  the  Boeotian 
towns  (Thebes  only  excepted)  and  of  Phocls  to  Athens. 


62  CALLIAS. 

he  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  "  Ah  I  my  dear  boy,"  he  said, 
"things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  with  Athens.  As  an 
old  soldier  I  know  what  some  of  the  things  that  you  tell 
me  mean  better  than  you  do  yourself.  We  are  near  the  be- 
ginning of  the  end,  and  I  can  only  hope  that  I  shall  be  gone 
when  the  end  itself  comes.  I  don't  mean  that  this  is  not  a 
great  victory  that  Diomedon  and  the  rest  of  them  have  won  ; 
but  it  is  a  victory  that  will  never  be  won  again.  In  the 
very  nature  of  things  it  can  not.  Do  you  think  that  the 
old  men  and  boys  that  I  won  the  day  with  at  CEnophyta* 
would  have  sufficed  for  a  regular  force,  a  force  that  the  city 
could  rely  on?  Of  course  not.  I  could  not  even  have 
afforded  to  risk  the  chance  if  they  had  not  had  some- 
thing strong  behind  them.  But  now  what  is  there?  Old 
men  and  boys,  and  nothing  behind  them.  The  slaves,  you 
say  ?  Very  good ;  they  fought  very  well,  I  hear.  And  of 
course  they  will  get  their  freedom.  Do  you  think  that  they 
will  fight  as  well  again  after  they  have  got  it  ?  Why  should 
they  ?  A  man  may  as  well  die  as  be  a  slave,  and  so  they 
might  very  well  risk  their  lives  to  get  free.  But,  once  free, 
why  should  they  risk  them  again  ?  " 

"What ! "  cried  Callias,  " not  to  keep  the  Spartans  out  of 
Athens?" 

"  You  talk  as  an  Athenian,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  they 

are  not  Athenians.     You  and  I,  I  allow,  would  sooner  die 

than  see  Spartans  within  the  walls :  but  what  would  it  naat- 

ter  to  them  ?    They  could  eat  and  drink,  buy  and  sell  just 

as  comfortably  whoever  might  be  their  masters.    Yes,  my 

son ;  it  is  all  over  with  a  city  that  has  to  fall  back  on  its 

slaves.    There  is  only  one  chance,  and  that  is  to  make  peace 

*Myronides  inarched  out  with  the  citizens  above  and  under  the  mil- 
itary age— all  the  available  force  that  was  left  at  Athens  at  the  time— 
and  won  two  victories,  the  first  at  Megara,  the  second  and  most  famous 
of  the  two  at  CEnophyta  in  Boeotia. 


GALLIAS.  68 

now  J  before  we  lose  all  that  we  have  gained.  But  what 
chance  is  there  of  that?  Is  there  anyone  who  would  even 
dare  to  propose  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Yod  would,  sir,"  said  the  young  man. 

♦*  Yes,  I  might;  but  to  what  profit?  I  don't  suppose  they 
would  do  me  any  harm.  '  Poor  old  man  ! '  they  would  say, 
*  he  dotes.'  But  as  for  listening  to  me — I  know  better  than 
that.  Is  there  one  of  the  responsible  statesmen  who  would 
venture  to  give  such  advice?  Would  my  son  Eteonicus 
venture  ?  Not  he;  and  yet  he  is  a  sensible  and  honest  young 
man,  and  knows  that  I  am  right.  But  it  would  be 
as  much  as  his  life,  or,  what  he  values  more,  his  whole 
career  is  worth,  to  hint  at  such  thing.  Oh  !  what  opportu- 
nities I  have  seen  lost  in  this  way.  Unfortunately  a  victory 
makes  the  Athenians  quite  impracticable.*  They  don't 
seem  capable  of  realizing  that  the  wheel  is  certain  to  take  a 
turn.  But  you  have  had  enough  of  an  old  man's  croakings- 
The  gods  grant  that  these  things  may  turn  out  better  than 
my  fears !  And  now  give  me  your  arm  to  the  gate,  where 
my  people  will  be  waiting  for  me. " 

Callias  conducted  the  old  man  to  the  door,  and  saw  him 
put  safely  into  the  litter  which  was  waiting  for  him.  He 
then  stood  meditating  how  he  should  dispose  of  himself  for 
the  rest  of  the  evening.  He  was  unwilling  to  return  to  the 
banquet.  Questions  would  be  put  to  him,  he  knew,  by 
many  of  the  guests  to  which  it  would  be  difficult  either  to 
give  or  to  refuse  an  answer.  He  would  gladly,  indeed,  have 
hidden  himself  altogether  till  the  fuller  despatches  should 
have  arrived,  which  would  relieve  him  of  the  necessity  of 

*  The  old  man  was  thinking  of  the  Bpartan  offer  to  make  peace  after 
the  cai)tur««f  tlie  live  hundred  and  ninety-two  prisoners  at  Pylos  (B.  C. 
425).  Teraa  much  more  favorable  migJjt  have  t)ecn  secured  than  wel>e 
obtained  four  years  afterwards  by  the  Peace  of  Nicias.  Again,  after  the 
defeat  and  death  of  the  BjMirtan  admiral  Mindarus  in  B.  C.  410  peace 
might  have  been  made,  and  the  ruin  of  Athens  probably  postponed  tor 
many  years;  but  the  people  refused  to  enter  into  negotiations. 


61  CALLIAS. 

playing  any  longer  the  difficult  part  which  had  been  im- 
posed upon  him.  His  thoughts  naturally  turned  to  Hip- 
pocles  and  Hermione,  and  he  had  already  taken  some  steps 
in  the  direction  of  the  Piraeus,  when  the  thought  occurred 
to  him  that  he  was  scarcely  on  terms  of  such  intimacy  with 
the  family  as  would  warrant  a  visit  at  so  late  an  hour.  As 
he  stood  irresolute,  the  door  of  a  neighboring  house  opened, 
and  a  party  of  four  young  men  issued  from  it  into  the 
street. 

"  Ah  ! "  cried  one  of  them,  "  'tis  the  sober  Callias.  Seize 
him,  Glaucus  and  Eudaemon,  and  make  him  come  with  us." 

The  two  men  addressed  ran  up  to  our  hero,  and  laid  hold 
each  of  an  arm. 

"  You  are  a  prisoner  of  my  spear,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
whose  name,  I  may  say,  was  Ctesiphon,  **  and  may  as  well 
submit  to  your  fate  with  as  much  grace  as  possible.  You 
shall  not  suffer  anything  unendurable, and  shall  be  released  at 
the  proper  time.    Meanwhile  you  must  join  our  expedition." 

"I submit,"  said  Callias,  willing,  perhaps,  to  have  the 
question  that  had  been  puzzling  him  settled  for  him.  "  But 
tell  me,  if  I  have  to  follow  you,  whither  you  are  bound." 

"  "We  are  going  to  the  house  of  Euctemon,  where  there 
will  be  something,  I  know,  worth  seeing  and  hearing." 

"  But  I  am  a  stranger,"  said  Callias.    • 

"  A  stranger  ! "  cried  Ctesiphon,  "  you  are  no  such  thing. 
The  man  who  brings  good  news  to  Athens  is  the  friend  of 
everybody.  Besides  Euctemon  is  my  first  cousin,  and  he 
is  always  pleased  to  see  my  friends.  You  should  have  been 
at  his  dinner,  but  that  there  was  no  room  on  his  couches 
for  more  guests.  But  now  when  the  tables  are  removed  * 
we  shall  easily  find  places.  But  come  along  or  we  shall 
lose  something." 
*  When  the  meal  was  ended  the  tables  were  not  cleared,  but  removed. 


GALLIAS.  65 

There  was  uo  want  of  heartiness  in  Euctemon's  greeting 
to  his  new  guests.  To  Callias  he  was  especially  polite,  mak- 
ing room  for  him  on  his  own  couch.  When  the  new  arrivals 
were  settled  in  their  places,  the  host  clapped  his  hands.  A 
white-haired  freedman,  who  acted  as  major-domo,  appeared. 

"We  are  ready  for  Stephanos,"  said  Euctemon. 

A  few  m.inutes  afterwards  a  figure  appeared,  so  curiously 
like  the  traditional  representations  of  Homer  that  everyone 
was  startled.  Stephanos  was  a  rhapsodist,  or  professional 
writer,  and  he  had  made  it  one  of  the  aims  of  his  life  to  im- 
itate as  closely  as  he  could  the  most  distinguished  member 
that  his  profession  could  boast.  In  e^rly  life  he  had  been  a 
school  master,  and  an  accident,  if  we  may  so  describe  a  blow 
trovo.  the  staff  of  a  haughty  young  aristocrat,  whom  he 
had  ventured  to  chastise,  had  deprived  him  of  sight.  His 
professional  education  had  included  the  knowledge  of  the 
authors  whom  the  Greeks  looked  upon  as  classics.  Homer 
holding  the  first  place  among  them,  and  he  was  glad  to 
turn  this  knowledge  to  account,  when  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  teach.  In  this  occupation  too  his  blindness  could  be 
utilized.  It  had  its  usual  effect  of  strengthening  the  mem- 
ory, and  it  helped  him  to  look  the  part,  which,  as  has  been 
said,  he  aspired  to  play. 

The  blind  minstrel  was  guided  to  the  seat  which  had  been 
reserved  for  him  in  the  middle  of  the  company  by  an  at- 
tendant, who  also  carried  his  harp. 

"What  shall  we  have,  gentlemen?"  asked  the  host. 
"You  will  hardly  find  anything  worth  learning  that 
Stephanos  does  not  know." 

The  guests  had  various  tastes,  so  various  that  it  seemed 
very  difficult  to  make  a  choice.  One  wanted  the  story  of 
the  Cyclops,  another  the  tale  as  told  by  Demodocus  to 
Alcinoas  and  the  Phseacian  princes,  of  the  loves  of  Ares  and 


66  CALLIAS. 

Aphrodite.  A  third,of  a  more  sober  turn  of  inind,called  for  one 
of  the  didactic  poems  of  Solon,  and  a  fourth  would  have  one 
of  the  martial  elegies  with  which  the  old  Athenian  bard  Tyr- 
taeus  stirred,  as  was  said,  the  spirits  of  the  Si)artan  warriors. 

"  Let  CaUias,  the  bringer  of  good  news,  name  it,"  said 
Euctemon,  after  some  dozen  suggestions  had  been  made. 

The  proposal  was  received  with  a  murmur  of  approval. 

The  young  man  thought  for  a  moment.  Then  a  happy 
idea  struck  him.  About  a  year  before  there  had  occurred 
an  incident  which  had  roused  the  deepest  feeling  in  Athens. 
The  aged  Sophocles,  accused  by  his  son  lophon  before  a 
court  of  his  clansmen,of  imbecihty  and  incapacity  for  man- 
aging his  affairs,  had  recited  as  a  sufficient  vindication  of 
his  powers,  a  noble  chorus  from  a  play  which  he  was  then 
composing,  the  last  and  ripest  fruit  of  his  genius — the 
"  CEdipus  in  Colonus."  The  verses  had  had  a  singular  suc- 
cess, as  indeed  they  deserved  to  have,  in  catching  the  pop- 
ular fancy.  They  were  exquisitely  beautiful,  and  they  were 
ftill  of  patriotic  pride.  Everyone  had  them  on  his  lips;  and 
before  they  had  time  to  grow  hackneyed,  the  interest  in 
them  had  been  revived  by  the  death  of  the  veteran  poet 
himself. 

*' Let  us  have  the  'Praises  of  Athens'  by  Sophocles  the 
son  of  SophUus  of  Colonus." 

The  choice  met  with  a  shout  of  applause.  The  minstrel 
played  a  brief  prelude  on  his  harp  in  the  Dorian  or  martial 
mood,*  and  then  began: 

*  There  were  three  original  moods  in  Greek  music,  the  Dorian, 
Phrygian,  and  Lydian.    The  last  of  these  was  in  a  major  scale,  and  was 
reckoned  to  be  plaintive  and  effeminate.  So  Milton  writes  in  L' Allegro. 
"  And  ever  against  eating  cares 
Lap  one  in  soft  Lydian  airs 
Married  to  immortal  verse ; 
Such  as  the  melting  soul  may  pierce 
In  notes  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  oat." 
The  Dorian  was  in  a  minor  scale,  and  wae  considered  to  be  manly 


CALLIA8.  67 

"  Swell  the  song  of  praise  again; 
Other  boons  demand  my  strain, 
Other  blessings  we  inherit. 
Granted  by  the  mighty  spirit; 
On  the  sea  and  on  the  shore, 
Ours  the  bridle  and  the  oar. 
Son  of  Chronos  old  whose  sway 
Stormy  winds  and  waves  ot)ey. 
Thine  be  heaven's  well-earned  meed. 
Tamer  of  the  champing  steed; 
First  he  wore  on  Attic  plain  ■ 

Bit  of  steel  and  curbing  rein. 
Oft  too,  o'er  the  water  blue, 
Athens  strains  thy  laboring  crew; 
Practiced  hands  the  barks  are  plying. 
Oars  are  bending,  spray  is  flying, 
Sunny  waves  beneath  them  glancing. 
Sportive  myriads  round  them  dancing, 
With  their  hundred  feet  in  motion. 
Twinkling  'mid  the  foam  of  ocean." 

He  concluded  amidst  thunders  of  applause,  the  reference 
to  the  fleet  being  especially  rewarded  with  a  purse  from  the 
host  and  a  shower  of  gold  pieces  from  the  guests. 

Other  recitations  followed,  not  all,  it  must  be  confessed,  in 
so  elevated  a  strain;  each  was  produced  with  a  few  bars  of 
music  appropriate  to  its  character. 

The  next  entertainment  was  of  a  less  intellectual  kind. 
Now  dancers  were  introduced  into  the  room  by  the  trai  ner  who 
had  taught  them,  and  whose  slaves  in  fact  they  were.  The 
man  was  a  red-faced,  bloated  looking  creature,  who,  how- 
ever, had  been  very  active  in  his  tune,  and  could  still  dis- 

smd  vigorous.    Martial  music  was  of  this  kind.     So,  to  quote  Milton 
again,  we  have : 

"  Anon  they  move 

In  perfect  phalanx  to  tlie  Dorian  mood 

Of  flutes  and  soft  melodies;  sucli  as  raised 

To  heights  of  noblest  temper  heroes  old 

Coming  to  battle." 
The  third,  or  Phrygian,  was  also  minor,  and  was  considered  to  he 
suitable  for  sacrifloes  and  other  religious  functions  as  l)eing  of  an  ecstat- 
ic kind.  There  were  combinations  and  modifications  of  these  moods. 
Readers  who  may  desire  to  know  more  of  the  subject,  should  consult 
Professor  Mahafly's  Jiamblee  and  Studies  in  Greece,  pp.  424-444  (3rd  edJ" 
tlon).  A  more  elaborate  account  may  be  found  in  Mr.  Chappell's"Uls- 
tory  of  Music" 


6»  CALLIA8. 

play  a  wonderful  amount  of  agility  when  he  was  engaged 
in  teaching  his  pupils.  The  dancers  were  brother  and 
sister,  twins,  and  curiously  alike,  though  the  boy  was  nearly 
a  half-head  taller,  and  generally  on  a  larger  scale  than  the 
girl.  The  performance  commenced  with  a  duet  of  the  harps 
and  the  flute.  The  harp,  a  small  instrument  not  larger  than 
a  violiB,was  played  by  the  boy,  the  flute  by  a  female  player, 
who  had  come  into  the  room  along  with  the  dancers.  Aftera 
while  the  harp  became  silent,  the  flute  continuing  to  give 
out  a  very  marked  measure.  To  this  the  girl  began  to  dance, 
whirling  hoops  into  the  air  as  she  moved,  and  catching  them 
as  they  fell.  Many  were  in  the  air  at  once,  and  the  girl 
neither  made  a  single  step  out  of  time  nor  let  a  single  hoop 
fall  to  the  ground. 

A  more  difficult  and  exciting  performance  followed.  The 
flute  player  changed  the  character  of  her  music.  The  Lydian 
measure  which  had  been  admirably  suited  to  the  graceful  steps 
of  the  dance  gave  place  to  the  swift  Phrygian  scale,  wild  and 
fantastic  music  such  as  might  move  the  devotees  of  Cybele 
or  Dionysus  to  the  mysterious  duties  of  their  worship.  At 
the  same  time  an  attendant  of  the  trainer  brought  in  a 
large  hoop,  studded  round  its  inner  circle  with  pointed 
blades.  The  girl  commenced  to  dance  again  with  steps  that 
grew  quicker  and  quicker  with  the  music,  till,  as  it  reached 
a  climax  of  sound,  she  leapt  through  the  hoop.  The  flute 
player  paused  for  a  moment,  as  the  dancer  turned  to  recover 
her  breath,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling  rapidly,  and  her 
eyes  flashing  with  excitement.  Then  the  music  and  the 
dance  began  again,  with  the  same  crescendo  of  sound  and 
motion,  till  the  same  culminating  point  was  reached,  and 
the  same  perilous  leap  repeated. 

The  spectators  watched  the  scene  with  breathless  interest; 
but  it  was  an  exhibition  that  was  scarcely  suited  to  Greek 


CALLIAS.  69 

taste.  A  Greek  could  be  even  horribly  cruel  on  occasions, 
but  a  cruel  spectacle — and  snectacles  that  depend  for  their 
attraction  on  the  danger  to  the  performer  are  critically 
cruel — offended  their  artistic  taste.  The  company  began  to 
feel  a  little  uneasy,  and  Euctemon  finally  interrupted  the 
festival  when  after  the  second  leap  had  been  successfully 
accomplished  he  signed  to  the  flute  player  to  cease  her 
music. 

•'Child,"  he  said  to  the  dancer,  "Aphrodite  and  the 
graces  would  never  forgive  me,  if  you  were  to  come  to  any 
harm  in  my  house.  It  is  enough;  you  have  shown  us  that 
no  one  could  be  more  skUlfulormore  graceful  than  you." 

The  boy  and  girl  now  perfonned  together  in  what  was 
called  the  Pyrrhic  or  war  dance.  Each  carried  a  light 
shield  and  spear,  made  of  silvered  tin.  They  represented 
two  warriors  engaged  in  single  combat.  Each  took  in  turn 
the  part  of  the  assailant  and  the  assailed,  the  one  darting 
forward  the  spear  which  had  been  carefully  made  incapable 
of  doing  any  harm,  the  other  cither  receiving  the  blow  upon 
his  shield  or  avoiding  it  with  agile  movements  of  the  body.* 
The  flute  player  accompanied  the  dance  with  a  very  lovely 
and  spirited  tune,  while  the  company  looked  on  with  the 
greatest  admiration,  so  agile,  so  dexterous,  and  so  invari- 
ably graceful  were  the  motions  of  the  two  dancers. 

When  the  boy  and  girl  had  retired,  and  while  the  guests 
were  again  devoting  themselves  to  the  wine,  CalUas  was  ac- 
costed by  a  neighbor  with  whose  handsome  features,  charac- 
terized as  they  were  by  a  gravity  not  often  seen  in  young 
Athenians,  he  was  familiar,  though  he  did  not  happen  ever 
to  have  made  his  acquaintance. 

"  I  am  about  to  retire,"  said  the  stranger,  "  and  if  I  may 
presume  so  far,  I  would  recommend  you  to  do  the  same. 

•  So  Hector  In  the  single  combat  with  AJaz. 


70  CALLIAS. 

Our  host  is  hospitable  and  generous,  and  has  other  virtues 
which  I  need  not  enumerate;  but  his  entertainments  are  apt 
to  become  after  a  certain  hour  in  the  night  such  as  no 
modest  young  man — ^and  such  from  your  face  I  judge  you  to 
be — ^would  willingly  be  present  at.  So  far  we  have  had  an 
excellent  and  blameless  entertainment;  but  why  not  depart? 
What  say  you?" 

"That  I  am  ready  to  go  with  you,"  answered  Callias. 
"My  friend  Ctesiphon  brought  me  hither,  and  I  know 
nothing  of  our  host  except  the  rejKjrt  of  his  riches  and 
liberality."  "  What !  are  you  going?  "  cried  the  ho8t,as  the 
two  young  men  rose  from  their  places.  "Nay,  but  you  are 
losing  the  best  part  of  the  entertainment.  It  is  but 
a  short  time  to  the  first  watch  when  Lysicles  will  come 
with  his  troop  of  dancers.  He  says  that  they  are  quite  in- 
comparable." 

"Nay,  sir,"  said  the  young  man  who  had  spoken  to 
Callias,  "  you  must  excuse  us." 

"Ah  !"  cried  one  of  the  guests,  a  young  dandy,  whose 
flushed  face  and  flower-garland  set  awry  on  his  fore- 
head seemed  to  show  that  he  had  been  indulging  too 
freely  in  his  host's  strong  Chian  wine,  "  'Tis  old  Silverside. 
He  pretends  to  be  a  young  man;  but  I  believe  that  he  is 
really  older  than  my  father.  At  least  I  know  that  the  old 
gentleman  is  far  more  lively.  Come,  Philip  and  Hermo- 
genes,"  he  went  on  addressing  two  of  his  neighbors,  "  don't 
let  us  permit  our  pleasant  party  to  be  broken  up  in  this  way." 

The  three  revellers  started  up  from  their  places,  and  were 
ready  to  stop  the  departing  guests  by  force.  But  the  host, 
who  was  still  sober,  and  was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to 
allow  annoyances  of  the  kind  to  be  inflicted  upon  anyone  in 
his  house,  interfered. 

"  Nay,  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  "  I  will  put  force  on  no  man 


CALLIAS.  71 

for  if  our  friends  tliink  that  they  can  be  better  or  more 
pleasantly  employed  elsewhere,  I  can  only  wish  them  good 
nigfet,  and  thank  them  for  so  much  of  their  company  as 
they  have  been  pleased  to  bestow  upon  us." 

The  two,  accordingly,  made  their  escape  without  any 
further  interference. 

"  Will  you  walk  with  me  as  far  as  my  house,"  said  Callias' 
companion  to  him.  "  It  lies  in  the  Agree.*  The  night  is 
fine  and  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  company." 

Callias  cheerfully  consented,  and  was  glad  that  he  had 
done  so,  so  witty  and  varied  was  his  companion's  conver- 
sation. 

When  they  had  reached  their  destination,  his  new  friend 
invited  him  to  enter.  This  he  declined  to  do  for  the  hour 
was  late,  and  he  wished  to  be  at  home. 

"  Well  then,"  said  the  other,  "  we  can  at  least  m.eet  again. 
This,  you  see,  is  my  house,  and  my  .name  is  Xenophon,  the 
son  of  Gryllus." 
*  A  quarter  of  Athens  south  of  the  city  on  the  Ilissus. 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

SOCRATES. 

CalIiIAS  lost  no  time  in  cultivating  the  acquaintance  of 
bis  new  friend.  The  very  next  day  he  called  upon  him  at 
as  early  an  hour  as  etiquette  permitted,  and  was  lucky 
enough  to  find  him  at  home.  He  had  lately  returned,  in- 
deed, from  drilling  with  the  troop  of  Knights  to  which  he 
belonged,  and  was  just  finishing  his  breakfast,  which  had 
been  delayed  till  his  military  duties  had  been  performed. 

"  Will  you  drink  a  cup  to  our  new  friendship — if  you  will 
allow  me  to  call  it  so  ?  "  said  Xenophon,  to  the  young  man 
as  he  entered  the  room. 

"  Excuse  me,"  replied  CaUias,  "  if  I  decline." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Xenophon,  "  this  is  one  of  the  offers 
which  formality  commands  us  to  make — ^whether  rightly  or 
wrongly,  I  cannot  say — ^but  which  I  always  myself  refuse, 
and  am  glad  to  see  refused  by  others.  But  what  will  you  ? 
A  game  of  kottabos,  or  a  walk  to  the  springs  of  the 
Ilissus  ? 

"Either," replied Callias,  "would beagreeable, butfirstnow 
I  have  set  my  heart  on  something  else.  You  are  a  disciple  of 
Socrates,  I  am  told.  Can  you  manage  that  I  may  have  the 
privilege  of  hearing  him  ?  I  have  never  had  the  chance  of 
doing  so." 

Xenophon's  face  brightened  with  pleasure  when  he  heard 
the  request.     "  Excellent,  my  dear  sir,  you  could  not  have 


CALLIAS.  73 

suggested  anything  that  would  have  pleased  me  better.  We 
shall  certainly  be  good  friends.  I  always  judge  a  man  by 
what  he  thinks  of  Socrates.  You  are  ready,  I  know,  to  ad- 
mire and  love  him,  and  I  ofTer  you  my  friendship  in  ad- 
vance. Now  let  us  go  and  find  him.  It  will  not  be  difficult, 
for  I  know  his  ways  pretty  well.  There  is  a  sacrifice  in  the 
Temple  of  Theseus,  and  he  will  probably  be  there.  There  is 
no  more  diUgent  attendant  at  such  functions,  and  yet  the 
fools  and  knaves  say  that  he  is  an  atheist.  We  shall  catch 
him  just  as  he  is  leaving. 

The  subject  of  conversation  between  the  two  young  men 
as  they  walked  along  was  naturally  the  character  of  this 
philosopher  whom  they  were  about  to  see.  Callias  had 
much  to  ask,  and  Xenophon  had  still  more  to  tell. 

"  As  you  are  going  to  see  this  man  for  the  first  time," 
said  the  latter,  "  you  will  be  interested  in  hearing  how  I  first 
came  to  make  his  acquaintance.  It  was  about  nine  years 
ago,  very  soon,  I  remember,  after  the  first  expedition  sailed 
for  Syracuse.  I  had  been  hearing  a  course  of  lectures  by 
Prodicus  of  Ceos,who  was  then  all  the  fashion  in  Athens,  and 
was  hurrying  home  to  be  in  time  for  the  midday  meal. 
Socrates  met  us  in  a  narrow  alley , and  puthisstaffacrossitto 
bar  the  way.  What  a  strange  figure  he  was,  I  thought.  I  had 
never  seen  him  before,  you  must  know;  for  we  had  been 
living  for  some  years  on  my  father's  estate  in  Euboea. 
Certainly  he  looked  more  like  a  Silenus  than  an  Apollo. 
•  Well,  my  son,'  he  said,  looking  at  me  with  a  smile  that 
made  him  look  quite  beautiful,  '  can  you  tell  me  where  a 
good  tunic  is  to  be  bought?*  I  thought  it  was  an  odd 
question,  though  certainly  he  might  want  a  tunic  for  him- 
self, for  his  own  was  exceedingly  shabby.  However  I  an- 
swered it  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  '  And  a  good  sword — 
where  may  that  be  purchased  ?  *    That  I  told  him  also  as 


74  CALLIAS. 

well  as  I  could.  Some  half  dozen  more  things  he  asked  me 
about,  and  I  did  my  best  to  reply.  At  last  he  said,  '  Tell  me 
then,  my  son,  since  you  know  so  well  where  so  many  good 
things  are  to  be  procured,  tell  me  where  the  true  gentleman* 
is  to  be  found  ?'  That  puzzled  me  exceedingly,  and  I  could 
only  lift  my  eyebrows  and  shrug  my  shoulders.  How  could 
I  answer  such  a  question  ?  Then  he  said,  'Follow  me  my 
son,  and  be  taught.'  I  never  went  near  Prodicus  again,  you 
may  be  sure.  My  father  was  somewhat  vexed,  for  he  had 
paid  a  quarter  of  a  talent  as  fee  for  the  course  of  lectures. 
However  it  did  not  cost  him  anything,  for  Socrates  will 
never  take  a  fee.  From  that  day  to  this  I  have  never 
missed  an  opportunity  when  I  was  not  campaigning  of  hear- 
ing him.    But  see, there  he  is  ! " 

Socrates  was  standing  in  the  open  space  in  front  of  the 
Temple  of  Poseidon,  with  the  customary  group  of  listeners 
round  him.  As  the  two  young  men  came  up  the  discussion 
which  had  been  going  on  came  to  an  end,  and  the  philoso- 
pher turned  to  greet  the  newcomers.  "  Hail !  Xenophon," 
lie  cried,  "  and  you,  too,  sir,  for  the  friends  of  Xenophon  are 
always  welcome."  "  You,  sir,"  he  went  on  addressing  Cal- 
lias,  "  are  recently  back  from  the  war;  now  tell  me  this." 
And  he  asked  questions  which  showed  that  military  de- 
tails were  perfectly  well  known  to  him,  better  known  to 
him  in  fact  than  they  were  to  Callias  himself.  These  questioiw 
were  becoming  a  little  perplexing,  for  Socrates  had  an 
inveterate  habit  of  driving -into  a  corner,  it  may  be  said, 
everyone  with  whom  he  conversed.  Luckily  for  Callias, 
another  friend  came  up  at  the  moment,  and  the  great  exam- 
iner's attention  was  diverted. 

"  Ho  !  Aristarchus,"  he  cried  to  the  newcomer,    "how 

fare  you?" 
*  The  "  Kalokagathos  "  (literally, handsome  and  good). 


CALLIAS.  76 

"  But  poorly,  Socrates,"  was  the  reply.  "  Things  are 
going  very  ill  with  me." 

"  And  indeed,"  said  the  philosopher,  "  I  thought  that  you 
had  a  somewhat  gloomy  look.  But  tell  me — what  is  your 
trouble?  Xenophon  here  is  your  kinsman,  I  know,  and 
you  will  not  mind  speaking  before  him,  and  he  will  answer 
for  the  discretion  of  his  friend.  Or  would  you  prefer  that 
we  should  go  apart  and  talk,  for  to  that  too,  I  doubt  not, 
these  two  gentlemen  will  consent?" 

"Nay,"  said  the  man  who  had  been  addressed  as  Aristar- 
cbus,  "  I  am  not  ashamed  or  unwilling  to  speak  before 
Xenophon  and  his  friend  Callias,  in  whom  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  recognizing  a  kinsman  of  my  own.  For  that 
from  which  I  am  suffering,  though  it  troubles  me,  has 
nothing  shameful  in  it." 

"Speak  on  then,"  said  Socrates,  "and,  perhaps, among  us 
we  shall  be  able  to  find  some  remedy  for  your  trouble.  For  sure- 
ly it  is  of  some  use  to  share  a  burden  if  it  be  too  heavy  for  one." 

"  Listen  then,  Socrates,"  said  Aristarchus,  "  I  have 
been  compelled  for  kindred's  sake  to  take  into  nay 
home  not  a  few  ladies,  sisters,  and  nieces,  and  cousins, 
whose  husbands  or  fathers,  or  other  lawful  protectors,  have 
either  perished  in  the  war,  or  have  been  banished.  There 
are  fourteen  of  them  in  all.  Now,  as  you  know,  nothing  comes 
in  from  my  country  estate,  for  who  will  farm  that  which  at 
any  time  the  enemy  may  ravage  ?  And  from  my  houses  in 
the  city  there  comes  but  very  little,  for  how  few  are  they 
who  are  able  to  pay  rent  ?  And  no  business  is  being  done 
in  the  city,  nor  can  I  borrow  any  money.  Verily  there  is 
more  chance  of  finding  money  in  the  street,  than  of  borrow- 
ing. O,  Socrates,  'tis  a  grievous  thing  to  see  my  own  flesh 
and  blood  perish  of  hunger,  and  yet,  when  things  are  as 
they  are,  I  cannot  find  food  for  so  many." 


76  CALLIAS. 

"  'Tis  grievous  indeed,"  said  Socrates.  "  But  tell  me— iiow 
comes  it  to  pass  that  Keramon  feeds  many  persons  in  itis 
name,  and  yet  can  not  only  provide  what  is  needful  for  him- 
self and  his  inmates,  but  has  so  much  over  that  he 
grows  rich  while  you  are  afraid  of  perishing  of  hunger?  " 

"Nay,  Socrates,  why  asli  such  a  question?  The  many 
persons  whom  he  so  keeps  are  slaves,  while  the  inmates  of 
my  house  are  free." 

"  Which  then,  think  you,  are  the  worthier,  your  free  per- 
sons, or  Keramon's  slaves?  " 

' '  Doubtless  my  free  persons. ' ' 

"  But,  surely,  it  is  a  shame,  that  he  having  the  less  worthy 
should  prosper,  and  you  with  the  more  worthy,  be  in 
poverty." 

'*  Doubtless  'tis  because  his  folk  are  artisans  while  mine 
have  been  liberally  educated."  / 

"By  artisans  you  mean  such  as  know  how  to  make  useful 
things. " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Barley  meal  is  a  useful  thing,  for  instance  ?" 

"Very  much  so." 

"And  bread?" 

"Very  much  so." 

"And  men's  and  women's  cloaks,  and  short  frocks,  and 
mantles,  and  vests  ?  " 

"Very  much  so." 

"But  your  folk  don't  know  how  to  make  any  of  these 
things.    Is  it  so?" 

"  Nay,  but  they  know  how  to  make  them  all." 

"  Do  you  not  know  then,  how  Nausicydes  not  only  sup- 
ports himself  and  his  household  by  making  barley  meal, 
but  has  become  so  rich  that  he  is  often  called  upon  to  make 
special  contributions  to  the  state     and  how  Coroebus,  the 


CALLIA/S.  77 

baker,  lives  in  fine  style  on  the  profits  of  bread-making,  and 
Demiason  mantle-making,  and  Menon  on  cloak-making, 
and  nearly  everyone  in  Megara  on  the  making  of  vests  ?  " 

"  That  is  very  true,  Socrates.  But  all  these  buy  barbarians 
for  slaves,  and  make  them  work;  but  my  people  are  fre^  by 
birth  and  kinsfolk  of  my  own." 

"And  because  they  are  free  and  kinsfolk  of  yours  must 
they  do  nothing  but  eat  and  sleep?  Do  you  suppose  that 
other  free  people  are  happier  when  they  live  in  this  indolent 
fashion,  or  when  they  employ  themselves  in  useful  occupa- 
tions ?  What  about  your  kinsfolk,  my  friend?  At  present 
I  take  it,  you  do  not  love  them,  and  they  do  not  love  you. 
for  you  think  them  a  great  trouble  and  loss  to  you,  and  they 
see  that  you  feel  them  to  be  a  burden.  It  is  only  too  Ukely 
that  all  natural  aflfection  will  turn  under  these  circumstan- 
ces to  positive  dislike.  But  if  you  will  put  them  in  the  way 
of  making  their  own  livelihood,  every  thing  will  go  right; 
you  will  have  a  kindly  feeling  for  them  because  they  will  be 
helping  you,  and  they  will  have  as  much  regard  for  you, 
because  they  will  see  that  you  are  pleased  with  them.  They 
know,  you  say,  how  to  do  the  things  that  are  a  woman's 
becoming  work;  don't  hesitate  therefore  to  set  them  in  the 
way  of  doing  it.  I  am  sure  that  they  will  be  glad  enough  to 
follow." 

"  By  all  the  gods,  Socrates,  you  are  right.  I  dare  say  I 
could  borrow  a  little  money  to  set  the  thing  going;  but  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  did  not  like  to  run  into  debt,  when  all 
the  money  would  simply  be  eaten.  It  is  a  different  thing, 
now  that  there  will  be  a  chance  of  paying  it  back,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  there  will  be  some  way  of  managing  it." 

Just  at  this  point  a  little  boy  came  up  with  a  message  for 
Socrates.  * '  My  mistress  bids  me  say, ' '  he  cried  in  a  somewhat 
undertone,  "that  the  dinner  is  waiting,  and  that  you  must 


78  CA  LLIA8. 

come  at  onoe."  "  There  are  commands  Avhich  all  must 
obey,"  said  the  philosopher  with  a  8mile,"and  this  is  one  of 
them.  And  indeed  it  would  be  ungrateful  to  the  excellent 
Xanthippe,  if  after  htearing  she  has  taken  so  much  pains  to 
prepare  one's  dinner,  one  was  to  refuse  the  very  easy  return 
of  eating  it.    Farewell,  my  friends." 

And  the  philosopher  went  his  way. 

To  Callias  the  conversation  which  he  had  just  heard  was 
peculiarly  interesting,  because  the  theory  in  his  family  was 
that  which  was  probably  accepted  in  ialmost  every  upper 
class  house  in  Athens,  that  it  was  a  disgrace  for  a  free-bom 
woman  to  work  for  her  living,  and  that  all  handicrafts, 
even  in  those  who  constantly  exercised  them,  were  degrading 
and  lowering  to  the  character.  Xenophon  already  knew 
what  his  master  thought  upon  these  points,  but  to  his 
younger  friend  this  "gospel  of  work,"  as  it  may  be  called, 
was  a  positive  revelation.  He  did  not  value  it  even  when, 
a  few  days  later,  he  heard  from  Aristarchus  that  the  experi- 
ment had  succeeded  to  admiration.  "  I  only  had  to  buy  a 
few  pounds  of  wool,"  he  said;  "  the  women  are  as  happy  as 
Queens,  and  I  have  not  got  to  think  all  day  and  night,  but 
never  find  out,  how  to  make  both  ends  meet." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  MURDER  OF  THE  GENERALS. 

A-LL  this  time  a  gloom  bad  been  settling  down  over  the 
Athenian  people.  The  official  despatch,  which,  as  giving 
details  of  the  loss  in  the  late  engagement,  was  so  anxiously 
expected,  did  not  arrive;  but  quite  enough  information  to 
cause  a  very  general  anxiety  came  to  hand  in  various  ways. 
Private  letters  from  men  serving  with  the  fleet  began  to  be 
brought  by  merchant  ships;  and  not  a  few  persons  were 
found  who  had  talked  or  who  professed  to  have  talked  with 
sailors  and  marines  who  had  taken  part  in  the  action. 
These  written  and  oral  accounts  were  indeed  far  from  being 
consistent  with  each  other.  Some  were  obviously  impossi- 
ble; more  were  presumably  exaggerated.  But  they  were  all 
agreed  in  one  point.  Not  only  had  there  been  a  serious  loss 
of  ships  and  men  during  the  battle,  but  this  loss  had  been 
grievously  aggravated  by  the  casualties  that  had  taken 
place  after  the  battle.  It  was  pretty  clear,  unless  the  whole 
of  these  stories  were  fictitious,  that  the  second  loss  had  been 
more  fatal  than  the  first. 

At  last  the  long  expected  despatch  arrived.  It  ran  some- 
what in  this  fashion: 

*'  The  victory  which,  by  the  favor  of  the  gods  and  the 
good  fortune  of  the  Athenian  people,  we  lately  won  over  the 
Spartans  and  their  allies  at  the  Islands  of  Arginusse  has 
turned  out  to  be  no  less  important  and  beneficial  to  the 


80  CALLIAS. 

state  than  we  had  hoped  it  would  be.  The  squadron  of  the 
enemy  that  was  blockading  the  harbor  of  Mitylene  has  dis- 
appeared; nor  indeed  are  any  of  his  ships  anywhere  to  be 
seen.  Our  fleet,  on  the  contrary,  is  stronger  than  it  haj 
been  for  some  years  past;  and  we  are  daily  receiving  over- 
tures of  friendship  from  cities  that  have  hitherto  beenin- 
diflerent  or  hostile.  But  this  success  has  not  been  achieved 
without  loss.  The  late  battle  was  long  and  obstinately  con- 
tested, and,  as  has  been  mentioned  in  a  former  despatch, 
not  a  few  of  our  ships  were  either  disabled  or  sunk.  We 
did  not  neglect  the  duty  of  succoring  the  crews  of  the  ves- 
sels that  had  met  with  this  ill-fortune,  committing  to  officers 
whom  we  knew  to  be  competent,  the  task  of  giving  such 
help  and  assigning  to  them  a  sufficient  number  of  ships. 
At  the  same  time  we  did  not  omit  to  make  provision  for  a 
pursuit  of  the  enemy.  But  unluckily  when  the  battle  was 
but  just  finished,  a  storm  arose  so  severe  that  we  could  not 
either  rescue  our  friends  or  pursue  our  enemy.  These  then 
escaped,  and  those,  or  the  greater  part  of  them  perished, 
having  behaved  as  brave  men  toward  their  country. 
Lists  of  those  that  have  so  died,  so  far  as  their  names  are 
at  present  known,  are  sent  herewith." 

In  this  official  communication,  it  will  be  seen,  no  blame 
was  laid  on  any  person.  The  weather,  and  the  weather 
ialone,  was  given  as  the  cause  of  the  disaster  that  had  oc- 
curred. But  in  their  private  communications  with  friends 
at  home  the  generals  were  not  so  reticent.  They  had  com- 
missioned, they  said,  Theramenes  and  Thrasybulus  to  save 
the  shipwrecked  men.  If  all  that  was  possible  had  not  been 
done  to  execute  this  commission  it  was  they  and  they  only 
who  were  to  be  blamed.  Such  words,  even  if  they  are  in- 
tended only  for  the  private  reading  of  the  people  to  whom 
they  are  written,  seldom  fiiil  sooner  or  later  to  get  out.    In 


CALLIA6'.  81 

this  case  so  many  people  were  profoundly  and  personally 
interested  in  the  matter  that  they  got  out  very  soon.  And, 
of  course,  among  the  first  persons  whom  they  reached  were 
the  two  incriminated  officers,  TheramenesandThrasybulus. 
It  was  a  charge,  hinted  at  if  not  exactly  made,  which  no 
man  would  allow  to  be  made  against  him  without  at  least 
an  attempt  to  refute  it.  Theramenes,  who  had  come  back 
on  leave  not  many  days  after  the  battle,  at  once  bestirred  him- 
self in  his  own  defence.  He  was  an  able  speaker,  all  the 
more  able  because  he  was  utterly  unscrupulous;  and  he  had 
a  large  following  of  personal  friends  and  partisans.  On 
the  present  occasion  he  was  reinforced  by  the  many  citizens 
who  had  lost  relatives  or  friends  in  the  late  engagement. 
These  were  furious  and  not  without  some  cause.  What  had 
been  at  first  represented  as  a  great  victory  had  at  length 
turned  out  to  be  as  fatal  as  a  great  defeat.  They  loudly  de- 
manded a  victim.  Somebody,  they  said,  must  be  punished 
for  so  scandalous,  so  deadly  a  neglect.  Theramenes  had 
the  advantage  of  being  on  the  spot,  and  of  being  able  to 
guide  these  feelings  in  a  way  that  suited  his  own  personal 
interests.  "I  was  commissioned,"  he  said,  "to  do  the 
work;  I  do  not  deny  it.  But  the  charge  was  given  me  when 
it  was  almost  too  late  to  execute  it,  and  I  hadn't  the  proper 
means  at  hand.  I  could  not  get  hold  of  the  ships  that  were 
told  off  for  this  task,  or  of  the  crews  who  should  have 
manned  them.  If  one  of  the  ten  had  come  himself  to  help 
me,  things  might  have  been  different.  As  it  was,  the  men 
either  could  not  be  found,  or  refused  to  come.  Asubordinate 
must  not  be  blamed  for  faiUng  in  what  ought  to  have  been 
undertaken  by  a  chief  in  command." 

These  representations,  in  which,  as  has  been  seen,  there 
was  a  certain  measure  of  truth,  had  a  great  effect.  An  as- 
sembly was  held  to  consider  the  contents  of  the  second 


82  CALLIAS, 

despatch,  and  at  this  it  was  resolved,  with  scarcely  an  op- 
posing voice,  that  the  generals  should  be  recalled.  They 
were  pubhcly  thanked  for  the  victory  which  they  had  won, 
but  they  were  suspended,  at  least  for  the  present,  in  their 
command,  and  successors  were  sent  out  to  replace  them. 
Conon,  as  having  been  shut  up  at  the  time  in  Mitylene,  and 
being  therefore  manifestly  clear  of  all  blame  in  the  matter, 
was  continued  in  office,  and  another  of  the  ten  had  died. 
Eight,  therefore,  were  left  to  be  affected  by  the  decree.  Of 
these  eight  two  determined  not  to  run  the  risk  of  returning; 
the  other  six  sailed  at  once  for  home.  Of  these  six  Diome- 
don,  about  whom  something  has  been  said  already,  was  one. 
As  soon  as  was  practicable  after  their  arrival  at  Athens, 
an  assembly  was  held  and  they  were  called  upon  for  their 
defence.  The  chief  speaker  against  them  was  Theramenes. 
His  colleague,  Thrasybulus,  stood  by  apparently  approving 
by  his  presence  the  charge  that  was  brought  but  not 
opening  his  mouth.  One  man  among  the  accused  men  might 
have  easily  secured  his  own  safety  at  the  expense  of  his 
colleagues.  If  Diomedon  had  stood  up  and  recapitulated 
the  advice  which  he  had  given  in  the  council  held  after  the 
battle;if  he  had  affirmed  what  none  of  his  fellows  would 
have  been  able  to  deny,  "  I  urged  you  to  make  the  rescue  of 
the  imperilled  crews  your  first  business,  to  use  for  it  all  the 
means  at  your  disposal,  and  to  undertake  it  yourselves,"  he 
must  have  been  triumphantly  acquitted,  but  he  was  of  too 
generous  a  temper  thus  to  save  himself.  He  chose  to  stand 
or  fall  with  his  fellows.  All,  accordingly,  put  forward  the 
same  defence,  and  it  was  in  substance  this:  "  We  did  what 
seemed  best  in  our  judgment.  We  detailed  for  the  duty  of 
saving  the  crews  what  we  considered  to  be  an  adequate 
force,  and  put  over  it  men  whom  we  knew  to  be  competent. 
If  Theramenes  accuses  us,  we  do  not  accuse  him.    We  be- 


CALLIAS.  .  83 

lieve  that  he  was  hindered  from  doing  the  duty  intrusted  to 
him  by  the  storm,  and  that  if  he  had  had  double  the  num- 
ber of  ships,  even  the  whole  fleet,  at  his  disposal,  he  would 
have  been  no  less  powerless  to  give  the  shipwrecked  men 
any  effectual  help." 

There  was  a  sincerity  of  tone  about  their  defence  which 
was  just  the  thing  to  win  favor  of  such  an  audience  as  the 
Athenian  assembly.  There  were  murmurs  indeed.  The 
friends  and  kinsfolk  of  the  drowned  men  could  not  endure 
to  think  that  no  one  would  l)e  punished  for  what  they  be- 
lieved to  be  a  shameful  neglect.  But  the  general  applause 
drowned  the  dissenting  voices,  and  the  friends  of  the  ac- 
cused began  to  hope  that  they  were  safe.  If  there  had  been 
only  a  few  more  minutes  of  dayUght,  such  might  have  been 
the  result.  A  show  of  hands  was  taken  by  the  presiding  mag- 
istrate, and  it  was  believed  to  be  in  favor  of  the  accused,  but 
it  was  too  dark  to  count;  no  regular  decision  could  be  made; 
and  the  matter  had  to  be  adjourned  to  another  meeting  of 
the  assembly. 

But  now  came  another  change  in  the  impulsive,  passion- 
ate temper  of  the  people.  The  next  day  or  the  next  day 
but  one  was  the  first  of  the  great  family  festival  of  Athens, 
the  Apaturia,  a  celebration  something  like  the  Christmas 
Day  or  the  New  Year's  Day  of  the  modern  world.  It  was 
one  of  the  most  cherished,  as  it  was  one  of  the  most  ancient 
of  the  national  festivals.  All  the  great  Ionic  race,  with 
scarcely  an  exception,  kept  it,  and  had  kept  it  from  times 
running  back  far  beyond  history.  The  family  annals  were 
now,  so  to  speak,  made  up,  and  consecrated  by  a  solemn  as- 
sociation with  the  past.  If  a  marriage  had  been  celebrated 
in  the  family  during  the  year  it  was  now  formally  registered; 
if  a  son  of  the  house  had  reached  his  majority  his  name 
was  now  entered  upon  the  roll.     These  formalities  were 


84  CALLIAS. 

duly  marked  by  customary  sacrificing  and  sacrifices  were 
accompanied,  as  always  in  the  ancient  world,  by  festivities. 
But  family  festivities  are  apt,  as  most  of  us  know  only  too 
well,  to  be  marred  by  melancholy  associations.  It  is  delightful 
to  greet  those  that  remain,  but  what  of  those  who  are  gone  ? 
And  so  it  had  been  year  after  year,  since  the  day  when 
Athens  embarked  on  the  fatal  war  which  for  nearly  thirty 
years  drained  her  resources.  So  it  was,  in  a  special  way,  in 
the  year  of  which  I  am  writing.  The  men  whom  Athens 
had  lost  were  not  hired  servants  but  sons.  Everyone,  the 
slaves  only  excepted,  left  an  empty  place  in  some  family 
gathering.  And  now  for  the  first  time  the  city  reaUzed  the 
greatness  of  her  loss.  The  numbers  had  been  known  before ; 
but  numbers,  however  startling,  do  not  impress  the  mind 
like  visible  facts,  and  now  the  visible  facts  were  before  the 
eyes  of  all.  The  streets  were  filled  with  men  and  women  in 
mourning  garb,  for  the  families  which  had  suflfered  indi- 
vidually assumed  it.  It  seemed  as  if  almost  every  passer-by 
had  lost  a  kinsman.  There  could  scarcely  have  been  any 
such  proportion  of  mourners,  but  any  uniform  garb  renders 
the  impression  of  being  much  more  numerously  wora  than 
is  really  the  case. 

And  there  can  be  but  Uttle  doubt  that  the  demonstration 
was  purposely  exaggerated.  For  now  came  in  the  sinister  in- 
fluence of  political  strife,  which  since  the  oligarchical 
revolution  of  five  years  before  had  grown  more  than  ever 
bitter  and  intense.  The  accused  leaders  belonged  to  the 
party  of  moderate  aristocrats;  a  party  loyal  to  the  democrat- 
ic constitution  of  Athens,  but  disposed  to  interpret  its 
provisions  in  a  conservative  sense.  The  oligarchy  hated 
them,  and  Theramenes  had  been  an  oligarchical  conspirator 
before,   and  was  about  to  be  again.    And  the  extremists 


CALLIA8.  86 

on  the  other  side  hated  them.  Between  the  two  a  plot  was 
concocted.  Men  who  had  no  kinsfolk  among  the  lost 
soldiers  and  sailors  were  bribed  or  otherwise  persuaded  to 
behave  as  if  they  had,  *  to  come  into  the  streets  with  black 
clothes  and  shaven  heads,  and  to  swell  the  numbers  of  the 
mourners,  thus  increasing  the  popular  excitement. 

Strangely  enough  it  was  the  Senate,  the  upper  chamber  of 
the  Athenian  constitution,  that  first  gave  this  excitement  an 
expression.  At  the  first  meeting  after  the  festival,  Callix- 
enus,  a  creature  of  Theramenes — the  man  himself  was  prob- 
ably too  notorious  to  take  .an  active  part — proposed  a  reso- 
lution which  ran  as  follows  : 

"  For  as  much  as  both  the  parties  in  this  case,  to  wit,  the 
prosecutor  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  accused  on  the  other 
were  heard  in  the  late  assembly,  it  seems  good  to  us  that 
the  Athenian  people  now  vote  on  the  matter  by  their  tribes, 
there  being  provided  for  each  tribe  two  urns,  and  that  the 
public  crier  make  proclamation  as  follows  in  the  hearing  of 
each  tribe: '  Let  everyone  who  finds  the  generals  guilty  of 
not  rescuing  the  heroes  of  the  late  sea  fight  deposit  his 
vote  in  Urn  No.  1.  Let  him  who  is  of  the  contrary  opinion 
deposit  his  vote  in  Urn  No.  2.'  Furthermore  it  seems  good 
to  us,  that,  if  the  aforesaid  generals  be  found  guilty,  death 
siiould  be  the  penalty;  that  they  should  be  handed  over  to 
the  Eleven,  t  and  their  property  confiscated  to  the  state,  ex- 
cepting a  tenth  part,  which  falls  to  the  goddess  [Athene]." 

The  Senate  passed  this  resolution,  though  there  was  a 
strong  minority  that  protested  against  it.    The  assembly 

*  Xenophon,  who  was  probably  in  Athens  at  the  time,  positively  as- 
serts that  this  was  done,  and  I  cannot  think  that  the  arguments  of  Mr. 
Grote  countervail  his  authority. 

t  The  "  Eleven  "  were  commissioners  of  police  who  had,  besides  the 
oliargeofthe  guardians  of  public  order,  the  care  of  the  prisoners,  and 
the  custody  of  criminals. 


86  CALLIAS. 

was  held  next  day,  and  Callixenus  came  forward  again  and 
proposed  his  resolution  as  having  received  the  Senate's 
sanction. 

It  was  received  with  a  roar  of  approval  from  the  majority. 
But  there  were  some  honest  men  who  were  not  inclined  to  sanc- 
tion a  proceeding  so  grossly  illegal,  for  such  indeed  it  was.  One 
of  them,  Eurj'ptolemus  by  name,  rose  in  his  place,  and  spoke: 

"  There  is  an  enactment  which  for  many  years  has  been 
observ'ed  by  the  people  of  Athens  for  the  due  protection 
of  persons  accused  of  crime.  By  this  enactment  it  is 
provided  that  every  person  so  accused  shall  be  tried 
separately,  and  shall  have  proper  time  allowed  him  for  the 
preparation  of  his  defence.  Seeing  then  that  the  resolution 
just  proposed  to  the  assembly  contravenes  this  enactment  by 
providing  that  the  accused  persons  should  be  tried  all  together 
and  without  such  allowance  of  due  time,  I  hereby  give 
notice  that  I  shall  indict  Callixenus  its  proposer  for  uncon- 
stitutional action." 

A  tremendous  uproar  followed  the  utterance  of  these 
words.  "  Who  shall  hinder  us  from  avenging  the  dead?" 
cried  one  man.  "  Shall  this  pedant  with  his  indictment 
stand  between  the  Athenian  people  and  their  desire  to  do 
justice  ?  "  shouted  another.  But  the  excitement  rose  to  its 
height  when  a  man  clad  as  a  mariner  forced  his  way 
through  the  crowded  meeting,  and  struggled  by  the  help  of 
his  companions  into  the  Bema,  the  platform,  or  hustings, 
of  the  place  of  assembly. 

It  was  a  strange  figure  to  stand  in  that  place  from  which 
some  of  the  famous  orators  and  statesmen  of  the  world  had 
addressed  their  countrymen.  He  was  evidently  of  the  low- 
est rank.  His  dress  was  ragged  and  soiled.  His  voice,  when 
he  spoke,  was  rough  and  uncultured.  Yet  not  Pericles  him- 
self, who  so  often  speaking  from  that  place 


CALLJA8.  87 

"  Had  swayed  at  will  that  fierce  democracy," 
ever  spoke  with  more  effect. 

"  Men  of  Athens,"  he  cried,  "  I  was  on  the  Cheiron.  I  was 
run  down  by  a  Corinthian  ship  just  before  the  battle  came 
to  an  end.  The  Cheiron  sank  immediately;  I  went  down 
with  her,  but  managed  to  get  free,  and  came  up  again  to  the 
surface  of  the  water.  I  saw  a  meal-tub  floating  by  me,  and 
caught  hold  of  it.  Some  ten  or  twelve  men  were  near  me. 
They  kept  themselves  up  for  a  time  by  swimming,  but  saiik 
one  by  one.  I  spoke  to  several  of  them,  and  bade  them 
keep  up  their  spirits,  because  the  admirals  would  be  sure  to 
rescue  us.  No  help  came.  At  last  only  one  was  left.  He 
was  my  brother-in-law.  I  made  him  lay  hold  of  the  other 
side  of  the  meal-tub;  but  it  was  not  big  enough  to  keep  us 
both  up.  He  let  go  of  it  again.  He  said  to  me  *  Agathon ' — 
that  is  my  name — '  you  have  a  wife  and  children;  I  am 
alone.  Bid  them  remember  me;  and  tell  the  men  of  Athens 
that  we  have  done  our  best  in  fighting  for  our  country,  and 
that  the  admirals  have  left  us  to  perish.' " 

"Was  the  man  teUing  the  truth,  or  was  he  one  of  those  his- 
toric liars  that  have  made  themselves  famous  or  infamous 
for  all  time  by  the  magnitude  of  the  fictions  that  they  have 
invented  just  at  the  critical  time  when  men  were  most 
ready  to  accept  them.* 

Whether  it  was  true  or  false,  the  story  roused  the  people 
to  absolute  fury.  Thousands  stood  up  in  their  places  and 
shook  their  fists  at  the  accused,  and  at  the  orators  who  had 
spoken  in  their  favor,  while  they  screamed  at  the  top  of  their 
voices,"  Death  to  the  generals  !  death  to  the  murderers  !  " 

A  momentary  silence  fell  upon  the  excited  crowd  when 

•  One  of  the  most  notorious  instances  In  modem  times  was  that  of  the 
Tartar  who  after  the  battle  of  the  Alma  Invented  the  news  that  Sebas- 
topol  was  taken.  The  report  was  almost  universally  believed  in 
England  for  some  days,  and  the  contradiction  of  It  caused  the  bitterest 
disappointment. 


88  CALLIAS. 

a  well-known  orator  of  the  intense  democratic  party  threw 
himself  into  the  hustings. 

"  I  propose  that  the  names  of  Euryptolemus  and  of  all 
those  who  have  given  notice  of  the  indicting  of  Callixenus  be 
added  to  the  names  of  the  accused  generals,  and  be  voted 
upon  in  the  same  way  for  life  and  death." 

The  speaker  added  no  arguments;  and  the  roars  of  appro- 
val that  went  up  from  the  assembly  showed  sufficiently  that 
no  arguments  were  needed.  The  advocates  of  constitutional 
practice  were  cowed.  It  was  only  too  plain  that  to  persist 
would  surely  be  to  meet  themselves  the  fate  of  the  ac- 
cused. Euryptolemus  was  a  brave  man,  and  as  we  shall 
soon  see,  did  not  intend  to  desert  his  friends;  but  for  the 
present  he  gave  way.  "  I  withdraw  my  notice,"  he  cried, 
reflecting  doubtless  that  he  could  renew  it  when  the  people 
should  become  more  ready  to  listen  to  reason  and  justice. 
But  there  was  stiU  another  constitutional  bulwark  to  be 
thrown  down.  The  presiding  magistrates  refused  to  put 
the  motion  to  the  assembly.  Their  chief  (or  chairman  as  we 
should  call  him)  rose  in  his  place.  He  was  pale  and  agitar 
ted,  and  his  voice  could  not  be  heard  beyond  the  benches 
nearest  to  him  when  he  said,  "The  motion  of  Callixenus  is 
against  the  laws,  and  we  cannot  put  it  to  the  assembly." 

"  They  refuse  !  they  refuse  ! "  was  the  cry  that  went  from 
mouth  to  mouth.  Again  the  rage  of  the  multitude  rose  to 
boiling  point,  and  again  the  popular  orator  saw  his  oppor- 
tunity. 

"  I  propose,"  he  said,  appearing  again  in  the  hustings, 
"  that  the  names  of  the  presiding  magistrates  be  added  to 
those  of  the  accused  in  the  voting  for  life  and  death." 

A  shout  of  approval  more  vehement  than  ever  greeted  this 
announcement.  Once  more  the  policy  of  concession,  or 
shall  we  say  of  cowardice  prevailed.    The  magistrates  con- 


CALLIA8.  89 

versed  a  few  moments  in  hurried  whispers,  and  then  ad- 
vanced to  the  railings  in  front  of  theirseats.  It  was  immedi- 
ately seen  that  they  had  yielded,  and  loud  applause  followed. 
"  Hail  to  the  popular  magistrates  !  Hail  to  the  friends  of 
the  people!"  was  the  universal  cry.  But  one  was  still 
sitting  in  his  place.  His  coUeagues  turned  back  to  bring 
him.  They  talked,  they  gesticulated,  they  laid  hold  of 
him  by  the  arms;  they  were  trying  to  force  him  out  of  his 
seat.  He  heeded  them  not;  to  all  persuasion  he  returned 
the  same  answer:  "I  am  set  to  administer  the  laws,  and 
will  do  nothing  that  is  contrary  to  them."  The  most  of  the 
house  could,  of  course,  hear  nothing  of  what  was  being  said; 
but  they  could  see  plainly  what  had  happened.  "Socrates 
refuses  !  Socrates  refuses! "was  now  the  cry,  followed  by 
shouts  of  "  Death  to  Socrates  ! "  "  Death  to  the  blasphemer  ! 
death  to  the  atheist ! " 

The  philosopher  sat  unmoved,  and  his  colleagues  made  no 
further  attempt  to  persuade  him.  They  took  what  was, 
perhaps,  the  only  possible  course  under  the  circumstances 
— for  they  had  not  all  the  martyr-like  temper  of  Socrates — 
and  put  the  question  without  htm. .  It  was  carried  by  a 
large  majority. 

The  presiding  magistrate,  having  announced  the  result  of 
the  vote,  went  on:  "  Seeing  that  it  has  seemed  good  to  the 
Athenian  people  to  try  the  generals  accused  of  negligence  in 
saving  the  Uves  of  citizens,  the  said  generals  are  hereby  put 
upon  their  trial.  If  they,  or  any  citizen  on  their  behalf, 
wish  to  address  the  assembly,  let  them  or  him  speak." 

It  might  have  been  thought  that  the  furious  crowd  which 
had  been  ready  to  overpower  with  violence  the  advocates  of 
constitutional  practice  would  have  howled  down  any  who 
dared  to  advocate  so  unpopular  a  cause.  But  it  was  not 
so.   Themfyority,  having  swept  away,  as  they  thought, 


90  CALL  I  AS. 

the  trammels  of  technicality,  in  their  eagerness  for  justice, 
had  no  wish  to  disregard  justice  by  refusing  a  hearing  to 
persons  on  their  defence.  Whatever  the  faults  of  the  Athen- 
ian democracy,  it  was  at  least  ready  to  hear  both  sides. 
When  therefore  Euryptolemus  rose  to  address  the  assem- 
bly on  behalf  of  the  generals,  an  instantaneous  silence  fol- 
lowed; nor  was  he  interrupted  during  the  delivery  of  his 
speech  except,  it  may  be,  by  occasional  murmurs  of  approval. 
He  spoke  as  follows : 

"  Men  of  Athens,  I  have  three  things  to  do  now  that  I  ad- 
dress you.  First,  I  have  to  blame  in  some  degree  my  dear 
friend  and  kinsman  Pericles,  and  my  friend  Diomedon; 
second,  I  have  to  plead  somewhat  on  their  behalf;  third,  I 
have  to  give  you  such  advice  as  will  in  my  judgment  best 
advantage  Athens.  I  blame  them  because  they,  through 
their  generous  temper,  have  taken  upon  themselves  the 
fault  which,  if  it  exists,  lies  upon  others.  For  indeed  what 
happened  after  the  battle  was  this :  Diomedon  advised  that 
the  whole  fleet  should  proceed  to  the  relief  of  the  disabled 
ships  and  their  crews.  Erasinides  counselled  that  the 
whole  fleet  should  be  sent  in  pursuit  of  the  enemy. 
Thrasyllus  declared  that  both  duties  might  be  discharged 
together,  part  being  sent  against  the  enemy,  and  part  to 
help  the  shipwrecked  men.  And  this  last  course  was  actu- 
ally taken.  Forty-seven  ships  were  told  oflf  for  this  duty; 
three,  that  is,  from  each  of  the  eight  divisions,  ten  belong- 
ing to  private  captains,  ten  that  were  from  Samos,  and  three 
that  belonged  to  the  conamander-in-chief.  And  three  ships 
were  committed  to  the  charge  of  Thrasybulus  and  Thera- 
menes,  the  very  men  who  now  bring  these  charges  against 
the  accused.  Yet  these  menldonotevennow,  on  behalf  of 
the  generals,  myself  accuse.  I  allow  that  the  violence  of 
the  storm  prevented  them  from  executing  this  order. 


CALLIAS.  91 

"  Sofar  then,  men  of  Athens,  do  I  blame  the  accused,  and 
I  do  plead  for  them.  And  now  let  me  venture  to  give  you 
some  advice.  Give  these  men  time,  if  it  be  but  one  day 
only,  to  make  their  defence.  You  know  that  there  is  yet  a 
form  of  law  by  which  it  is  enacted:  '  If  any  person  hath 
aggrieved  the  people  of  Athens,  he  shall  be  imprisoned  and 
brought  to  a  trial  before  the  people;  and  in  case  he  be  con- 
victed, he  shall  be  put  to  death  and  thrown  into  the  pit,  his 
goods  and  chattels  to  be  confiscated  to  the  state,  reserving  a 
tenth  part  for  the  goddess.'  By  this  law  try  the  ac- 
cused. Give  to  each  a  separate  day  and  try  them  in  due 
order.  So  will  you  judge  them  according  to  the  law,  and 
not  seem,  as  verily  you  wiU  seem  if  you  adopt  the  resolution  of 
Callixenus,  to  be  allies  of  the  Lacedaemonians,  by  putting 
to  death  the  very  men  who  have  taken  twenty  of  their  ships. 
"  Why  indeed  are  you  in  such  vehement  haste?  Are  you 
afraid  to  lose  your  hold  of  life  and  death  ?  That  right  no 
one  doubts  or  threatens.  Should  you  not  rather  be  afraid 
lest  you  put  an  innocent  man  to  death  ?  One  man  do  I  say, 
nay  many  innocent  men?  And  lest,  afterwards  repent- 
ing of  your  deed,  you  shall  reflect  how  ill  and  unjustly  you 
have  acted?  Forbid  it,  ye  gods,  that  the  Athenians  shoxild  do 
any  such  thing.  Take  care,  therefore,  I  implore  you,  that 
you,  being  successful,  do  not  act  as  they  often  act,  who  are 
on  the  brink  of  despair  and  ruin.  Only  those  who  are 
without  hope  insult  the  gods;  yet  somehow  you  will  insult 
them,  if  instead  of  submitting  to  them  on  points  that  are 
subject  to  their  will  alone,  you  condemn  those  men  who 
failed  because  it  was  the  pleasure  of  the  gods  that  they 
should  fail.  You  would  do  more  Justly  if  you  honor  these 
men  with  crowns  of  victory  rather  than  visit  them  with 
this  punishment  of  death." 
A  visible  effect  was  produced  by  this  speech.    That  the 


92  CALLIA8. 

republic  should  put  to  death  its  successful  generals  almost 
in  the  moment  of  victory  seemed  to  many  to  be  the  very 
height  of  folly,  even  of  impiety.  The  gods  had  favored 
these  men.  To  lay  hands  upon  them  would  be  an  insult  to 
heaven.  But  supposing  they  had  erred,  would  it  be  well 
for  the  state  to  deprive  itself  of  the  services  of  its  most  skill- 
ful se^^'^ants  ?  This  seemed  the  common  sense  view.  The 
question  was:  would  it  prevail  against  the  sticklers  for 
law,  those  who  were  hardened  by  the  sense  of  personal 
loss,  and  the  unscrupulous  partisans  who  were  ready  to 
seize  any  pretext  for  destroying  political  opponents  ?  The 
voters  filed  past  the  balloting  urns,  and  dropped  their 
votes  as  they  passed.  No  one  could  guess  what  the  result 
would  be,  for  no  one  could  watch  more  than  one  of  the  ten 
pairs  of  urns — a  pair  to  each  tribe — ^which  were  placed  to  re- 
ceive the  sufirages.  The  process  took  no  little  time,  and 
then  when  it  was  finished,  there  was  the  counting,  also  a 
long  and  tedious  process.  It  was  almost  dark  when  the 
tables  were  finished. 

In  the  midst  of  a  profound  silence  the  presiding  magis- 
trate stood  up.  It  was  now  dark,  and  his  figure  was  thrown 
into  striking  relief  by  the  lamps  with  the  help  of  which  the 
votes  had  been  counted.  He  read  the  mmibers  from  a 
small  slip  of  paper,  "There  have  voted,"  he  said,  "for 
condemnation  3254,  for  acquittal  3102." 

The  sensation  produced  by  the  announcement  was  in- 
tense. Not  a  few  who  had  voted  '  guilty '  already  half  re- 
pented of  what  they  had  done.  Indeed  the  reaction  which 
ended  in  the  banishment  and  ultimately  the  death  by  star- 
vation of  the  author  of  the  proposal  may  be  said  to  have 
begun  at  that  moment.  The  general  excitement  rose  to  a 
still  higher  pitch  when  the  officers  of  the  Eleven,  the 
magistrates  to  whose   custody   condemned  criminals  were 


CALLIAS.  93 

handed,  were  seen  making  their  way,  lighted  by  slaves 
holding  torches,  to  the  place  where  the  accused  were  sitting. 
There  was  not  one  of  the  six  whose  features  were  not  famil- 
iar to  many  in  the  assembly.  More  than  one  had  rendered 
distinguished  service  to  Athens;  and  one,  Pericles,  son  of 
the  great  statesman  by  Aspasia,  bore  a  name  which  no 
Athenian  could  pronounce  without  some  emotion  of  pride 
and  gratitude.  It  so  happened  that  it  was  he  on  whom  the 
officers  laid  hands.  Something  like  a  groan  went  up  from 
the  crowd;  but  it  was  too  late  to  undo  what  they  had  done, 
and  it  was  too  early  for  the  repentance  that  had  already 
begun  to  work  to  have  any  practical  effect.  The  six  were 
led  off  to  immediate  execution. 

Callias,  anxious  to  say  a  few  words  of  farewell  to  his 
friend  and  kinsman  Diomedon,  had  hurried  round,  as  soon 
as  he  heard  the  announcement  of  the  numbers,  to  the  door 
by  which  he  knew  the  condemned  would  be  taken  from  the 
place  of  assembly.  The  president  of  the  Eleven  who  was 
conducting  the  matter  in  person,  as  became  an  occasion  so 
important,  allowed  a  brief  interview. 

The  young  man  was  so  overcome  with  grief  that  he  could 
only  throw  himself  into  the  arms  of  his  friend  and  cling  to 
him  in  speechless  agony.  Diomedon,  on  the  contrary,  was 
perfectly  calm  and  collected.  "My son,"  he  said,  "this 
has  ended  as  badly  as  I  thought  that  it  would — ^you  will  re- 
member what  I  said  to  you  after  the  battle.  For  myself, 
this  that  I  am  about  to  suffer  \a  scarcely  a  thing  to  be  lament- 
ed. It  is  hard  indeed  to  have  such  a  return  for  my  services 
to  Athens;  and  I  would  gladly  have  served  her  again.  It 
has  not  so  seemed  good  to  the  Athenians.  Let  it  be  so.  I 
am  delivered  from  trouble  to  come.  I  would  not  have  fled 
from  them  wiUingly,  but  if  my  countrymen  compel  me. 
why  should  I  complain  ?    That  at  least  Socrates  has  taught 


94  OALLIAS. 

me  not  to  do.  And  this  day  has  at  least  brought  this  good, 
that  no  one  can  doubt  hereafter  that  he  beUeves  what  he 
says.  For  you,  my  son,  I  have  but  one  word.  Do  not 
despair  of  your  country.  A  grateful  child  pays  his  dues 
of  nurture  even  to  an  impassive  mother.  And  now  fare- 
well!" 

An  hour  afterwards  he  and  his  colleagues  were  lying 
mangled  corpses  at  the  bottom  of  the  pit.* 

*  Mr.  Qrote  says  that  the  condemned  generals  drank  hemlock 
but  it  Is  evident  from  the  report  of  Euryptolemus  which  is  substantially 
taken  from  Xenophon's  report  that  the  mode  of  execution  for  persons 
condemned  under  such  charges  as  that  brought  against  the  generals 
was  by  being  thrown  into  the  pit.  This  place  was  called  the  Barathron 
and  was  within  the  city  walls  and  was  a  deep  pit  with  hooks  fastened 
into  tiie  walls.  The  officer  in  charge  of  it  was  called  "  The  Man  of  the 
Pit." 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

RESCUED. 

The  execution  of  the  generals  was  a  blow  of  such  severity 
that  Callias  was  absolutely  prostrated  by  it.  As  a  patriotic 
Athenian  he  felt  overwhelmed  both  with  shame  and  with 
despair.  That  his  country  should  be  capable  of  such  ingrati- 
tude and  folly,  should  allow  private  revenge  or  party  spite 
to  deprive  her  of  the  generals  who  could  lead  her  troops  to 
victory  made  it  impossible  to  hope.  The  end  must  be  near, 
for  the  gods  must  have  smitten  her  with  the  madness 
which  they  send  upon  those  whom  they  are  determined  to 
destroy.  And  then  he  had  loved  Diomedon  almost  as  a  son 
loves  a  father.  Left  an  orphan  at  an  early  age  he  had  found 
in  this  kinsman  an  affectionate  and  loyal  guardian;  and  he 
had  made  his  first  acquaintance  with  war  under  his  auspi- 
ces. He  had  in  him  a  friend  whom  he  felt  it  would  be 
quite  impossible  to  replace. 

For  some  days  Callias  remained  in  strict  seclusion  at 
home,  refusing  all  visitors,  and,  in  fact,  seeing  no  one,  ex- 
cept the  aged  house-steward,  who  had  been  now  the  faith- 
ful servant  and  friend  of  three  generations  of  his  family. 
Even  when  Hippocles  himself,  on  the  fifth  day  after  the 
disastrous  meeting  of  the  assembly,  sent  in  an  urgent  re- 
quest that  he  might  be  allowed  to  see  him,  the  steward  was 
directed  to  meet  him  with  the  same  refusal.  The  old  man 
contrary  to  liis  custom  of  prompt  and  unhesitating  obedir 


96  CALLIAS. 

ence,  lingered  in  the  room  after  he  had  received  this  answer, 
and  was  obviously  anxious  to  speak.  "Well!  Lyeides," 
said  the  young  man,  his  attention  attracted  even  in  the 
midst  of  his  preoccupation  by  this  unusual  circumstance, 
' '  What  is  it  ?    What  do  you  want  ? ' ' 

"It  would  be  well,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  "if  you  would 
see  the  worthy  Hippocles.  He  declares  that  the  affair  of 
which  he  is  come  is  one  of  the  very  highest  importance." 

CaUias  simply  shook  his  head. 

The  steward  began  again,  "  Oh  !  sir — " 

Callias  interrupted  him.  "You  are  an  old  man,  and  a 
friend  whom  my  father  and  my  grandfather  trusted,  and  I 
would  not  say  a  harsh  word  to  you.  But  if  you  will  not 
leave  the  room,  I  must." 

The  old  man's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  had  never  heard 
his  young  master  speak  in  such  a  tone  before.  Still  he 
would  not  go,  without  making  another  effort. 

He  rapidly  advanced  to  where  his  master  was  sitting,  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands,  and  throwing  himself  on  the 
ground,  caught  the  young  man  by  the  knees. 

"  Listen,  sir,"  he  cried,  "  I  implore  you,  by  the  gods,  and 
by  the  memory  of  your  father  and  your  grandfather,  who 
both  died  in  my  arms." 

"Speak  on,"  cried  CaUias.  "  It  seems  I  am  not  my  own 
master  any  longer." 

"Oh!  sir,"  the  old  man  continued,  "your  liberty,  your 
life  is  in  danger." 

These  words,  uttered  as  they  were  in  a  tone  of  conviction 
that  could  not  be  mistaken,  startled  the  young  man  out  of 
the  indifference  which  his  profound  depression  had  hard- 
ened. 

"What  do  you  mean?  "  he  cried. 

"I  have  known  it  since  yesterday  at  noon,"  the  steward 


CALL  I  AS.  cfj 

replied,  '•  and  have  been  anxiously  thinking  over  with  my- 
self how  I  could  best  make  it  known  to  you.  And  now 
Hippocles  has  come  to  say  the  same  thing.  For  the  sake  of 
all  the  gods,  trust  and  listen  to  what  he  has  to  tell  you." 

"  Bring  him  in,  if  you  will  have  it  so,"  said  Callias. 

Hippocles  came  into  the  room  with  outstretched  hahds 
and  caught  the  young  man  in  a  close  embrace.  The 
warmth  and  tenderness  of  this  greeting  had  the  happiest 
result.  Callias  was  moved  from  the  stupor  of  grief  which 
had  overwhelmed  him.  Bowing  his  head  on  his  friend's 
shoulder,  he  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears, — for  tears  were  a 
relief  which  the  mo'st  heroic  souls  of  the  ancient  world  did 
not  refuse  to  themselves.  His  friend  allowed  his  feeUngs  to 
express  themselves  without  restraint,  and  then  as  the  vio- 
lence of  the  young  man's  emotion  began  to  subside,  he  put 
in  a  few  words,  instinct  with  heartfelt  sympathy,  about  * 
the  friend  whom  they  had  lost.  Thus,  with  his  usual 
tact,  he  waited  for  Callias  himself  to  open  the  subject  in 
which  he  now  felt  sure  his  interest  had  been  aroused.  It 
was  soon  after  that  the  young  man  asked  :  "  What  is  this 
that  old  Lycides  has  been  saying  about  my  Uberty  and 
life  being  in  danger  ?  He  has  known  it,  he  says,  since  yes- 
terday, and  you  know  it  too.    What  can  he  mean?  " 

"He  is  quite  right,"  replied  Hippocles.  "He knows 
something  and  I  kiiow  something.  Now  listen.  Your 
parting  with  Diomedon  was  observed.  The  men  who 
murdered  him — and  by  all  the  gods !  there  never  was  a 
fouler  miu'der  done  in  Athens — cannot  but  look  for  ven- 
geance to  come  upon  them.  To  avoid  it  or  to  postpone  it  they 
will  stick  at  nothing.  No  near  friend  or  relative  of  their 
victims  is  safe.  I  know — for  I  have  friends  in  places  you 
would  not  think — mark  you,  I  know  that  your  name  is 
among  those  who  will  be  accused  in  the  next  assembly." 


98  CALLIAS. 

"  Accused,"  cried  Callias,  "accused  of  what?  Of  being 
bound  by  kindred  and  affection  to  one  of  the  noblest  of  men. 
By  heavens  !  let  them  accuse  me.  I  should  glory  to  stand 
and  defend  myself  on  such  a  charge.  If  I  could  only  teU  that 
villain  Theramenes  what  I  think  of  him  I  should  be  afraid 
of  nothing." 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  thought  you  would  say,"  replied 
Hippocles,  "  nor  can  I  blame  you.  But  have  patience. 
Theramenes  will  get  his  deserts  if  there  are  gods  in  heaven 
and  furies  in  hell.  But  have  patience.  Leave  his  punishment 
to  them.  But  meanwhile  don't  give  him  the  chance  of 
burdening  his  soul  with  another  crime."' 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  then?  "  asked  Callias. 

•'  Fly  from  Athens,"  replied  his  older  friend. 

•*  What!  fly,  and  leave  these  traitors  and  naurderers  to  en- 
joy their  triumph!  Not  so ;  not  if  I  were  to  die  to-morrow." 

"  My  dear  young  friend,  you  will  help  your  country, 
which,  in  spite  of  all  her  faults,  you  wish,  I  presume,  to 
serve,  and  avenge  your  friends  all  the  more  surely  if  you  will 
yield  to  the  necessities  of  the  time." 

"  Don't  press  me  any  further  :  it  would  be  a  dishonor  to 
me  to  leave  Athens  now." 

The  argument  was  continued  for  some  time  longer;  but 
Hippocles  could  not  flatter  himself  with  the  idea  that  he 
had  made  any  impression.  At  last  he  seemed  to  abandon 
the  attempt. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "a  willful  man  must  have  his  way.  I 
can  only  hope  that  you  will  never  Uve  to  repent  it.  But 
you  will  not  refuse  to  come  and  see  us — ^my  daughter  adds 
her  invitation  to  mine — ^you  will  not  be  so  ungallant  as  to 
refuse." 

"  No,  I  should  not  think  of  refuging,"  said  Callias.  "  You 
have  called  me  back  to  life.   I  thought  that  my  heart  would 


CALLIAS.  99 

have  burnt  with  grief  and  rage.  You  can't  imagine  what 
your  sympathy  is  to  me." 

"  Well,"  said  Hippocles,  "show  your  gratitude  by  dining 
with  us  to-night." 

Callias  promised  that  he  would,  and  accordingly  at  the 
time  appointed  presented  himself  at  the  merchant's  house. 

After  dinner  the  discussion  was  resumed.  Hippocles  and 
Hermione  urged  all  the  arguments  that  they  knew  to  per- 
suade the  young  man  to  think  of  his  own  safety,  but  they 
urged  in  vain. 

"No  !"  said  the  young  man,  as  he  rose  to  take  his  leave, 
"  no,  I  thank  you  for  your  care  for  me,  but  your  advice  I 
may  not  follow.  I  refuse  to  beUeve  that  the  Athenian  peo- 
ple can  keep  the  base  and  ungrateful  temper  which  they 
showed  the  other  day.  It  was  the  madness  of  an  hour,  and 
they  must  have  repented  of  it  long  ago.  If  they  have  not, 
then  an  honest  man  who  happens  to  be  born  into  this 
citizenship  had  best  die.  Athens  is  no  place  for  him.  Any- 
how, I  shaU  try,  at  the  very  next  assembly,  unless  I  can  get 
some  other  and  abler  man  than  I  am  to  do  it  for  me,  to 
indict  Callixenus  for  unconstitutional  practices.  Did  I  pass 
by  this  occasion  of  vengeance,  the  blood  of  Diomedon  and 
his  brave  colleagues  might  well  cry  out  of  the  ground 
against  me. 

Several  days  passed  without  any  disturbing  incident. 
CaUias  had  warnings  indeed.  Mysterious  letters  were 
brought  to  him,  bidding  him  beware  of  dangers  that  were 
imminent;  more  than  one  stranger  who  found  him  in  the 
streets  let  fall,  it  seemed  by  the  merest  accident,  words  that 
could  not  but  be  meant  to  give  a  warning;  friends  spoke 
openly  to  the  same  effect;  but  the  young  man  remained  un- 
moved. At  the  table  of  Hippocles,  where  he  was  a  frequent 
guest,  the  subject  was  dropped.    It  seemed  to  be  conceded 


100  CALLIAS. 

by  common  consent  that  Callias  was  to  have  his  own  way. 
He  was  returning  to  his  home  in  the  upper  city  from  the 
Piraeus  on  a  dark  and  stormy  night,  picking  his  way  under 
the  shelter  of  one  of  the  Long  Walls  *  when  he  felt  himself 
suddenly  seized  from  behind.  So  suddenly  and  so  skillfully 
made  was  the  attack  that  in  an  instant  the  young  man, 
though  sufficiently  active  and  vigorous,  was  reduced  to  ab- 
solute helplessness.  His  arms  were  fastened  to  his  side;  his 
legs  pinioned;  his  eyes  blindfolded,  and  a  gag  thrust  into 
his  mouth.  All  this  was  done  without  any  unnecessary 
violence,  but  with  a  firmness  that  made  resistance  impossi- 
ble. The  young  man  then  felt  himself  lifted  on  to  some 
conveyance  which  had  been  waiting,  it  seemed,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  driven  rapidly  in  a  northerly  direction.  So 
much  the  prisoner  could  guess  from  feeling  the  wind  which 
he  knew  had  been  coming  from  the  east,  blowing  upon  his 
right  cheek.  After  being  driven  rapidly  for  a  few  minutes 
the  gag  was  removed  with  an  apology  for  the  necessity 
that  had  compelled  its  use.  The  journey  was  continued 
with  unabated  and  even  increased  rapidity,  the  lash,  as 
Callias'  ear  told  him,  being  freely  used  to  urge  the  animals 
to  their  full  speed.  Before  long  the  sound  of  the  waves 
breaking  upon  the  shore  could  be  distinctly  heard  above  the 
clatter  of  the  horses'  hoofs  and  the  grinding  of  the  chariot 
wheels  upon  the  road.  Then  came  a  stoppage.  The  prisoner 
was  lifted  from  his  seat  and  put  on  board  what  he  guessed 
to  be  a  small  boat.  He  felt  that  this  was  pushed  out  from  the 
land,  that  it  began  by  making  fair  progress,  and  that  not 
long  after  starting,  when  it  had  passed,  as  he  conjectured, 
beyond  the  shelter  of  some  bay  or  promontory,  it  began  to 
meet  bad  weather.      The  waves  were  breaking,  it  was  easy 

•  The  "  Long  Walls  "  ran  from  Athens  down  to  its  chief  harbor  the 
Piraeus. 


GALLIAS.  101 

to  tell,  over  the  boat,  in  which  the  water  was  rising  in  spite 
of  the  efforts  of  tHe  men  who  were  busy  bailing  to  keep  it 
under.  It  was  time  for  our  hero  to  speak;  so  busy  were  the 
sailors  in  struggling  with  their  difficulties,  that  they  might 
easily  have  forgotten  their  prisoner,  and  let  him  go  to  the 
bottom  like  a  stone. 

"  Friends,"  he  cried,  "  you  had  best  let  me  help  you  and 
myself." 

"  By  Poseidon  !  I  had  forgotten  htm,"  he  heard  one  of 
the  men  cry. "  If  he  drowns  there  will  be  no  profit  to  us 
in  floating."  A  consultation  carried  on  in  low,  rapid  whis- 
pers followed.  It  ended  in  the  prisoner's  bonds  being  severed, 
and  the  bandage  being  removed  from^  his  eyes. 

When  the  situation  became  visible  to  the  young  Athenian 
it  was  certainly  far  from  encouraging.  The  boat  was  low 
in  the  water,  and  was  getting  lower.  It  was  evident  that  it 
could  not  live  more  than  a  few  minutes  more.  The  night 
was  dark,  and  the  sea  so  high  that  even  the  most  expert 
swirmner  could  not  expect  to  survive  very  long.  The  only 
hope  seemed  to  he'  in  the  chance  of  being  blown  ashore. 
But  obviously  the  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  prepare  for  a 
swim.  CaUias,  accordingly,  threw  oflf  his  upper  garment 
and  untied  his  sandals.    This  done  he  waited  for  the  end. 

It  was  not  long  in  coming.  The  boat  was  too  low  in  the 
water  to  rise  to  the  waves,  and  one  of  unusual  size  now 
broke  over  and  swamped  it,  immersing  the  crew,  who  num- 
bered nine  persons  including  Callias.  Happily  they  were 
good  swimmers,  and  if  speedy  help  were  to  come,  might 
hope  to  escape.  And,  luckily,  help  was  nearer  than  any  of 
them  had  hoped.  A  light  became  visible  in  the  darkness; 
and  the  swimmers  shouted  in  concert  to  let  the  newcomers 
know  of  their  whereabouts.  An  answering  shout  came  from 
the  galley,  for  as  may  be  supposed,  it  was  a  galley  that  car- 


102  CALLIAS. 

ried  the  light.  "  Be  of  good  cheer,"  shouted  a  voice  wliich 
Callias  thought  that  he  recognized.  The  swimmers 
shouted  in  answer,  and  felt  new  hope  and  new  life  infused 
into  them.  But  the  rescue  was  no  easy  task.  Each  man  in 
turn  had  to  fasten  under  his  armpits  a  rope  with  a  noose  at 
the  end  which  was  thrown  to  him,  and  was  then  drawn 
up  the  side  of  the  galley.  This  took  time.  Some  of  the  men 
found  it  hard  to  do  their  part  of  the  work,  and  so  delayed 
the  rescue  of  the  others.  By  the  time  that  Calhas  was 
reached,  and  he  was  the  last  of  the  nine,  he  was  almost 
beyond  the  reach  of  help.  By  one  supreme  effort,  however, 
he  managed  to  slip  the  rope  about  him.  As  he  was 
dragged  on  to  the  deck  the  last  conscious  impression  that  he 
had — and  so  strange  was  it  that  he  thought  it  must  be  a 
dream — was  the  face  of  Hermione  bent  over  him  with  an  ex- 
pression of  intense  anxiety. 


i 


ft 


CHAPTEEXn. 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  SKYLARK. 

It  was  not  long  before  Callias  recovered  his  consciousness; 
but  he  was  so  worn  out  by  excitement  and  fatigue,  coming 
as  they  did  after  the  exhausting  emotions  through  which  he 
had  passed  since  the  death  of  the  generals,  that  he  found  it 
impossible  to  rouse  himself  to  any  exertion.  The  yacht, 
which  as  my  readers  will  have  guessed  was  that  excellent 
sea-boat  the  Skylark,  had  never  been  in  any  danger,  though 
she  had  had  to  be  very  skillfully  handled  while  she  was  en- 
gaged in  picking  up  the  swimmers.  This  task  accomplished, 
her  head  was  put  northward,  and  before  very  long  she  had 
gained  the  shelter  of  Euboea.  CaUias  guessed  as  much  when 
he  found  that  she  ceased  to  roll,  and  gladly  resigned  himself 
to  the  slumber  against  which  he  had  hitherto  done  his  best 
to  struggle.  He  slept  late  into  the  morning;  indeed  it 
wanted  only  an  hour  of  noon  when  at  last  he  opened  his 
eyes.  The  first  object  that  they  fell  upon  was  the  figure  of 
Hippocles,  who  was  sitting  by  the  side  of  his  berth. 

"  Then  it  was  not  a  dream,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I 
thought  I  saw  your  daughter  on  board  last  night,  but  could 
not  believe  my  eyes." 

"  Yes,  she  is  on  board,"  said  Hippocles,  with  a  slight 
smile  playing  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"  But  tell  me  what  it  all  means.  I  was  seized  in  the  streets 
of  Athens,  pinioned,  blindfolded,  and  gagged.     I  was  car- 


104  CALLIAS. 

ried  off  I  know  not  where,  thrown  into  a  boat,  as  nearly  as 
possible  drowned,  and  now,  when  I  come  to  myself,  I  see 
you.    Surely  I  have  a  right  to  ask  what  it  means." 

"My  dear  Callias,"  replied  Hippocles,  "I  have  always 
tried  to  be  your  friend,  as  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  your 
fathei^s  before  you.    You  wiU  allow  so  much  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  young  man.  "  I  shall  never  forget 
how  much  I  owe  you." 

"  Well,  then,  trust  me  for  an  hour.  I  will  not  ask  you  to 
do  anything  more.  If  you  are  not  fully  satisfied  then,  I 
will  make  you  any  redress  that  you  may  demand.  I  know 
that  you  have  a  right  to  ask  for  it.  I  know,"  he  added  with 
an  air  of  proud  humility  that  sat  very  well  upon  him,  "  that 
Hippocles  the  Alien  is  asking  a  great  favor  when  he  makes 
such  a  request  of  Callias  the  Eupatrid,*  but  believe  me  I  do 
not  ask  it  without  a  reason." 

The  young  Athenian  could  do  nothing  else  than  consent 
to  a  request  so  reasonable.  Some  irritation  he  felt,  for  there 
was  no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  Hippocles  had  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  violence  to  which  he  had  been  sub- 
jected. The  intention,  however,  had  been  manifestly  friend- 
ly, and  there  might  be  something  to  tell  which  would 
change  annoyance  into  gratitude. 

A  sailor  now  brought  him  some  refreshment,and  when  this 
had  been  disposed  of,  another  furnished  him  with  some 
clothing.  His  own,  it  will  be  remembered,  he  had  thrown 
away,  when  preparing  to  swim  for  his  life.  His  toilet  com- 
pleted, he  came  up  on  deck  and  found  Hippocles  and  his 
daughter  seated  near  the  stern.  Both  rose  to  greet  him.  He 
could  not  fail  to  observe  that  Hermione  was  pale  and  agi- 
tated.   The  frank  friendliness  of  her  old  naanner,  which, 

*  The  Eupatridae  Trere  the  old  aristocracy  of  Athens.  Under  the 
early  constitution  they  were  the  ruling  caste,  and  they  always  retained 
the  monopoly  of  certain  religious  offices. 


'  CALLIAS.  106 

blended  as  it  had  been  with  a  perfect  maidenly  modesty, 
had  been  inexpressibly  charming,  had  disappeared.  She 
was  now  timid  and  hesitating.  She  could  not  lift  her  eyes 
when  she  acknowleged  his  greeting.  He  could  even  see  that 
she  trembled. 

The  young  man  stood  astonished  and  perplexed.  What 
was  this  strange  reserve  of  which  he  had  never  before  seen  a 
trace  ?  Was  there  anything  in  himself  that  had  caused  it  ? 
Had  he — so  he  asked  himself,  being  a  modest  young  fellow 
and  ready  to  lay  the  blame  on  his  own  shoulders — had  he 
given  any  offence  ? 

"  TeU  him  the  story,  father,"  she  said,  after  an  anxious, 
pause  during  which  her  agitation  manifestly  increased, 
"  tell  him  the  story.    I  feel  that  I  cannot  speak." 

"  My  little  girl  has  a  confession  to  make.  In  a  \yord,  it  is 
her  doing  that  you  are  here  to-day." 

"  Her  doing  that  I  am  here  to-day,"  echoed  Callias,  his 
astonishment  giving  a  certain  harshness  to  his  voice. 

The  girl  burst  into  tears.  Callias  stepped  forward,  and 
would  have  caught  her  hand.    She  drew  back. 

"  Tell  him,  father,  tell  him  all,"  she  whispered  again  in 
an  agitated  voice. 

"Well  then,"  said  her  father,  "if  I  must  confess  your 
misdeeds,  I  will  st)eak.  You  know,"  he  went  on  addressing 
himself  to  the  young  Athenian,  "  you  know  how  we  vainly 
sought  to  persuade  you  to  leave  Athens.  I  had  a  better  and 
stronger  reason  for  speaking  as  I  did  than  I  could  tell  you. 
From  private  information,  the  source  of  which  I  could  not 
divulge,  if  you  had  asked  it,  as  you  probably  would  have 
done,  I  had  found  out  that  you  were  in  the  most  serious 
danger.  Not  only  were  you  to  be  arrested — so  much  you 
know — but  having  been  arrested,  you  were  to  be  put  out  of 
the  way.    You  talked  of  answering  for  yourself  before  the 


106  CALLIAS.  ' 

assembly,  even  of  accusing  your  enemies  and  the  nxen  wlio 
murdered  your  friends.  You  never  would  have  had  the 
chance.  There  are  diseases  strangely  sudden  and  fatal  to 
which  prisoners  are  liable,  and  there  was  only  too  much 
reason  to  fear  that  you  would  be  attacked  by  one  of  them. 
There  are  other  poisons,  you  Isnow,  besides  the  hemlock, 
which  the  state  administers  to  the  condemned,  and  an  ad- 
verse verdict  is  not  always  wanted  before  they  are  given. 
Well;  we  were  at  our  wits'  end.  You  were  obstinate — par- 
don me  for  using  the  word^ — and  I  would  not  teU  you  the 
whole  truth.  Even  if  I  had,  it  was  doubtful,  in  the  temper 
of  mind  you  were  in,  whether  you  would  have  believed  me. 
Then  Hermione  here  came  to  the  rescue.  *  We  must  save 
him,'  she  cried,  '  against  his  will.'  '  How  can  we  do  that  ? ' 
I  asked;  and  I  assure  you  that  I  had  not  the  least  idea  of 
what  she  meant.  *  You  must  contrive  to  carry  him  off  to 
some  safe  place.'  I  was  astonished.  'What!'  I  said,  *a 
free  citizen  of  Athens.'  *  What  will  that  help  him,  with  the 
men  who  are  plotting  to  take  his  life  ? '  she  answered.  Then 
she  told  me  her  plan.  I  need  not  describe  it  to  you.  It  was 
carried  out  exactly.    Now  can  you  forgive  her  ?  " 

"  Oh !  lady  " — the  young  man  began. 

"  Stop  a  moment,"  cried  Hippocles.  "  I  have  something 
more  to  say,  before  you  pronounce  your  judgment.  You 
must  take  into  account  that  if  she  has  erred,  she  has  already 
suffered." 

"Oh!  father,"  interrupted  the  girl,  "it  is  enough;  say 
nothing  more.    I  am  ready  to  bear  the  blame." 

And  she  sank  back  into  her  seat  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  mantle. 

Hippocles  went  on:  "I  say  she  has  suffered.  We  did  not 
reckon  on  that  unlucky  wind.  It  was  bad  enough  to  have 
carried  you  off  against  your  will;  but  when  it  seemed  that 


CALLIAS.  107 

we  might  drown  you  as  well,  that  looked  serious.  I  was 
not  much  afraid,  myself.  I  felt  pretty  sure  that  we  should 
be  able  to  pick  you  up.  But  still  there  was  a  chance  of 
something  going  wrong.  And  she,  of  course,  felt  responsi- 
ble for  it  all.  It  was  true  that  it  was  the  only  way  of  saving 
you — that,  I  swear  by  Zeus  and  Athene,  and  all  the  gods 
above  and  below,  is  the  simple,  literal  fact — but  still,  I  must 
own,  it  was  a  trying  moment,  and  if  anything  had  hap- 
pened —  Then  you  were  the  last  to  be  picked  up,  and  just 
at  the  last  moment,  something  went  wrong.  The  clumsy 
fellow  at  the  helm — I  ought  to  have  been  there  myself,  but 
I  wanted  to  help  in  getting  you  on  board — the  clumsy  fel- 
low at  the  helm,  I  say,  gave  us  a  wrong  turn.  We  should 
have  had  a  world  of  trouble  in  bringing  the  Skylark  about 
again.  Hermione  saw  it,  sprang  to  the  tiller,  and  put  things 
right — I  have  always  taught  her  how  to  steer.  So  you  really 
owe  her  something  for  that.  I  don't  exactly  say  that  she 
saved  your  life,  but  you  might  have  been  in  the  water  a 
little  longer  than  you  liked.  Well,  it  was  trying  to  the  poor 
girl.  I  can  imagine  how  she  felt;  but  she  bore  up  till 
we  got  you  on  board.  Then  she  fainted;  for  the  very  first 
time  in  her  life,  I  give  you  my  word,  for  she  is  not  given  to 
that  sort  of  thing.  Now,  say,  can  you  forgive  her  and  us  ? 
We  really  did  it  for  the  best,  and  thanks  to  Poseidon,  it  has 
ended  pretty  well,  so  far,  after  all." 

"  This  is  no  case  for  forgiveness,"  cried  the  young  Athen- 
ian earnestly;  "  it  is  a  case  of  gratitude  which  I  shall  never 
exhaust  as  long  as  I  live.  I  am  a  headstrong  young  fool,  a 
silly  child,  in  fact,  and  you  were  quite  right  in  dealing  with 
me  as  grown  people  must  deal  with  a  child,  help  it  and  do  it 
good  against  its  will.  Forgive  nae,  lady,"  he  went  on,  and 
kneeling  before  her  chair,  he  took  one  of  her  hands  in  his 
own,  and  carried  it  to  his  lips. 


108  CALLIAS. 

So  far  all  was  well.  A  bold  achievement  had  ended  hap- 
pily, but  the  situation  was  a  little  strained,  to  use  a  common 
phrase,  and  Callias,  like  the  well  bred  gentleman  that  he 
was,  felt  that  it  would  be  a  relief  to  the  girl  if  it  was  brought 
to  an  end.  Happily,  too,  at  that  moment  the  ludicrous  side 
of  the  affair  strucfi:  him,  and  it  was  without  any  affectation 
that  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"And  now  that  you  have  captured  me,"  he  said,  •*  what 
is  your  pleasure?    What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

"  You  shall  go  where  you  please,"  said  Hippocles. ' "  Even 
if  you  want  to  return  to  Athens  I  will  not  hinder  you.  But 
my  plan  is  this,  subject  of  course,  to  your  consent.  Come 
with  me  as  far  as  Thasus.  I  have  business  there,  to  look  after 
my  vineyard,  or  rather  the  vintage.  My  people,  I  find,  are 
sadly  apt  to  blunder  about  it.  This  will  take  me  no  little 
time,  and  while  I  am  engaged  there,  the  Skylark  shall  take 
you  on  to  Alcibiades'  castle  in  Thrace.  I  was  going  to  say 
that  I  would  commend  you  to  him.  But  that  will  not  be 
necessary.  He  is,  you  know,  adistant  kinsman,  and  is  hospi- 
taUty  itself.  In  my  judgment  he  has  had  hard  usage.  It 
would  have  been  better  for  Athens,  if  she  had  trusted  him 
more.  But  all  that  is  past.  Meanwhile  I  think  that  his 
castle  is  the  safest  place  for  you  just  now.  You  and  he  are 
very  much  in  the  same  case,  I  fancy.  Athens  has  not 
treated  either  of  you  ^irly  and  yet  you  wish  well  to  her." 

"  Your  plan  seems  a  good  one,"  replied  Callias,  "  let  me 
think  it  over  for  a  few  hours.  Anyhow  you  shall  have  my 
company  as  far  as  Thasus,  if  you  will  accept  it." 

Meanwhile  the  Skylark  was  making  headway  gaily 
through  the  well-sheltered  waters  that  lie  between  Euboea 
and  the  mainland  of  Greece.  When  the  shelter  ceased  the 
wind  had  fallen,  shifting  at  the  same  time  to  the  south- 
west.   Nearly  two  hundred  miles  had  yet  to  be  traversed 


CALL  I  AS,  109 

before  Thasus  could  be  sighted,  and  this  was  accomplished 
without  accident  or  delay.  The  time  of  year  was  later  than 
a  Greek  seaman  commonly  chose  for  a  voyage  of  any  dura- 
tion, for  it  was  the  latter  end  of  October,  and  the  ninth  of 
November  was  the  extreme  limit  of  the  sailing  season.* 
Hippocles,  however,  was  more  venturesome  in  this  way  than 
most  of  his  contemporaries,  and  his  confidence  was  rewarded 
by  a  most  pleasant  and  prosperous  voyage.  So  blue  were  the 
cloudless  skies,  so  deep  the  answering  color  of  the  seas, 
that  it  was  only  when  the  travellers  saw  the  sunset  tints  on 
the  forest-clad  ridge  of  Thasus — "  the  ass's  back-bone  laden 
with  wood,"  as  it  was  called — that  they  remembered  that 
summer  had  long  since  given  place  to  autumn. 

Two  days  were  spent  in  a  visit  to  the  vineyard  which  Hip- 
pocles had  come  to  inspect,  and  then  Callias,  who  had  soon 
concluded  to  follow  his  friend's  advice,  resumed  his  voyage. 
The  course  of  the  Skylark  was  now  south-easterly.  The 
voyage  had  all  the  interest  of  novelty  for  him,  for  he  had 
never  before  visited  these  waters.  When  the  Skylark 
started  at  early  dawn  there  was  a  mist  which  contracted 
the  horizon.  As  this  cleared  away  under  the  increasing 
power  of  the  sun  the  striking  peak  of  Samothrace  became 
visible  in  the  distance.  All  day  its  bold  outlines  became 
more  and  more  clearly  defined.  On  the  following  morning 
— for  the  good  ship  pursued  her  course  all  night — it  had  been 
left  behind,  but  another  height,  not  less  striking  in  appear- 
ance, and  even  more  interesting  in  its  associations,  the  snow- 
capped Ida,  at  whose  feet  lay  the  world-famed  Trojan  plains, 
took  its  place.  As  evening  fell  the  Skylark  was  brought  to 
land  at  the  western  end  of  the  Hellespont,  the  rapid  current  of 
which  could  be  better  encountered  by  the  rowers  when  they 

*"  The  seaa  are  closed,"  says  Vegeti us  In  his  treatise  De  Re  MilUari, 
"  from  the  ninth  of  November  to  the  tenth  of  March." 


110  CALLIA8. 

had  been  refreshed  by  a  night's  rest.  Progress  was  now  some- 
what slow;  and  it  was  on  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day 
after  the  start  from  'Riasus  that  the  cliffs  of  Bisanthe  and 
the  northern  shore  of  the  Propontis  came  in  sight.  This  was 
our  hero's  destination,  for  it  was  here  that  Alcibiades,  after 
quitting  Athens  in  the  previous  year,  had  fixed  his  abode. 


CHAPTER  Xni. 

ALCIBIADES. 

The  sun  was  just  setting  when  the  Skylark  cast  anchor 
about  two  hundred  yards  from  the  shore  and  opposite 
the  castle  with  which  the  loftiest  point  of  the  cliffs  was 
crowned.  The  signal  flag  which  the  captain  ran  up  to  his 
mast-head  was  answered  by  another  from  the  castle,  and  in  a 
few  miiiutes  a  boat  was  seen  to  start  from  a  little  quay  which 
had  been  built  out  into  the  sea  at  the  foot  of  the  cliflT.  Cal- 
lias  had  written  a  letter  to  Alcibiados  in  which  he  briefly  de- 
scribed himself  and  his  errand,  and  Hippocles,  though 
modestly  depreciating  the  value  of  anything  that  he  could 
say,  had  also  written,  at  the  young  man's  request,  a  letter  of 
introduction.  These  documents  were  handed  over  to  the 
officer  in  charge  of  the  boat,  and  conveyed  by  him  to  the 
castle.  After  a  very  short  delay  the  boat  returned  again, 
this  time  in  the  charge  of  an  officer  of  obviously  higher 
rank.  This  higher  personage  mounted  the  side  of  the 
Skylark,  and  after  giving  a  courteous  greeting  to  Callias,  de- 
livered to  him  an  invitation  from  Alcibiades  to  make  his 
castle  his  home  for  as  long  a  period  as  he  might  find  it  con- 
venient to  stay  there,  explaining  at  the  same  time  that  his 
master  would  have  come  in  person  to  welcome  his  guest,  if 
he  had  not  been  detained  by  business  of  importance  with  a 
neighboring  chief.  The  young  Athenian's  baggage — ^for 
he  had  been  liberally  fitted  out  by  the  thoughtful  and  gen- 


112  CALLIAS. 

erous  care  of  Hippocles — was  transferred  to  the  boat,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  more  he  had  set  his  foot  on  the  landing- 
place. 

He  had  been  si)eculating  as  he  neared  the  shore,  about  tlie 
way  in  whieli  the  castle  was  to  be  approached.  An  observer 
looking  from  the  sea  might  have  thought  that  there  was  no 
way  of  getting  to  it  except  by  scaling  the  almost  perpendicu- 
lar base  of  the  clifT.  Once  landed  on  the  quay,  however,  the 
traveller  discovered  that  a  passage  had  been  cut  through  the 
cUff.  This  passage,  which  could  be  closed  at  its  lower  end  by 
a  massive  door,  was  something  like  a  winding  staircase.  It 
was  somewhat  stifling  and  dark,  though  light  and  air  were 
occasionally  admitted  by  holes  bored  to  the  outer  svfrface  of 
the  rock.  Its  upper  end  opened  into  a  courtyard  round 
which  the  castle  was  built.  The  approach  from  the  sea  was, 
it  will  have  been  seen,  sufficiently  secure.  On  that  side  In- 
deed the  castle  of  Bisanthe  was  absolutely  impregnable. 
From  the  land,  it  was,  to  say  the  least,  safely  defensible.  It 
was  approached  by  one  narrow  ridge,  so  formed  that  a  few  reso- 
lute men  could  hold  it  against  a  numerous  body  of  assailants. 
The  walls  were  lofty  and  massive,  and  so  constructed  that  a 
galling  fire  of  missiles  could  be  kept  up  on  either  flank  of  an 
attacking  force. 

Callias  was  escorted  to  his  chamber  by  a  young  Thracian 
slave,  who  informed  him  in  broken  speech  that  a  bath  room 
in  which  he  would  flnd  hot  and  cold  water  was  at  his  ser- 
vice, and  further  that  his  master  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  his  company  at  supper  in  an  hour's  time.  The  chamber, 
it  may  be  said,  was  furnished  with  a  clepsydra,  or  water- 
clock,  marked  with  divisions.* 

*  It  is  convenient  in  a  narrative  to  speak  of  "  hours,"  and  the  Greeks 
had  a  division  of  time  that  was  so  named.  But  it  must  not  be  supi>osed 
that  these  hours  were  exact  periods  of  time  such  as  we  mean  by  the 
word.  The  day  between  sunrise  and  sunset  was  divided  into  twelve 
equal  parts,  which  varied  in  length  according  to  the  season  of  the  vear. 


CALLIA8.  113 

Callias  awaited  his  introduction  to  liis  host  with  no  little 
curiosity.  Alcibiades  was,  as  has  been  said,  a  Isinsman  of 
his  own,  and  he  had  heard  of  him — ^what  Athenian,  indeed, 
had  not? — ^but  he  had  never  happened  to  see  him.  CalUas' 
father  had  been  an  aristocrat  of  the  old-fashioned  type,  and 
had  8o  strongly  disapproved  of  his  cousin's  reckless  and  ex- 
travagant behavior  that  he  had  broken  off  all  intercourse 
with  him,  and  had  been  particularly  careful  that  his  son 
should  never  come  in  contact  with  him.  CaUias  was  about 
fourteen  when  Alcibiades  left  Athens  in  command  (along 
with  two  colleagues)  of  the  Sicilian  expedition.  The  absence 
thus  begun  lasted  about  eight  years.  For  the  first  half  of 
this  time  he  was  an  exile;  for  the  second  half  in  command  of 
the  fleets  and  armies  of  Athens,  but  still  postponing  his  re- 
turn to  his  native  city.  Then  came  his  brief  visit,  lasting,  it 
would  seem,  only  a  few  days,*  and  at  that  time  Callias,  as 
it  happened,  had  been  absent  in  foreign  service.  He  was  now 
in  what  was,  or  should  have  been,  the  prime  of  life,  having 
just  completed  his  forty-fourth  year,  but  the  dissipation  of 
his  youth  and  early  manhood  and  the  anxieties  of  his  later 
years  had  left  their  mark  upon  him,  and  he  looked  older 
than  his  age.  Yet  there  were  traces  of  the  brilliant  beauty 
that  in  earlier  days  had  helped  to  make  him  the  spoiled 
darling  of  Athens.  The  wrinkles  had  begun  to  gather 
about  his  eyes,  but  they  were  still  singularly  lustrous,  and 
could  either  flash  with  anger  or  melt  with  tenderness.  His 
temples  were  hollow  and  his  cheeks  had  somewhat  fallen  in; 
but  his  complexion  was  almost  as  brilliant  as  ever,  while 
the  abundant  auburn  curls  that  fell  chistering  about  his  neck 
had  scarcely  a  streak  of  gray  in  them. 

*  He  returned  in  May,  407,  conducted  in  person  tlie  processioa  to 
Eleusls;  a  ceremony  which  had  lieen  discontinued  for  some  time  on 
ivccount  of  tlie  presence  of  the  Spartan  garrison  at  Decelela,  and  left 
iierain  to  take  command  of  the  fleet  a  few  dAys  afterwards.  He  never  saw 
Athens  again. 


114  CALLIA8. 

His  greeting  to  his  guest  was  more  than  courteoua  It 
was  affectionate,  exactly  such  as  was  fitting  from  an  older 
to  a  younger  relative.  Indeed  then,  as  ever  afterwards  during 
their  acquaintance,  Callias  was  greatly  struck  by  the  per- 
fection of  his  manners.  It  seemed  impossible  that  the 
stories  told  of  his  haughty  insolence  by  which  in  former  years 
he  had  made  himself  one  of  the  best-hated  men  in  Athens 
could  possibly  be  true. 

Supper  was  announced  shortly  after  Callias  had  been 
ushered  into  the  chamber.  Alcibiades  took  his  guest'by  the 
hand,  led  him  into  the  dining-room,  and  assigned  him  a 
place  next  to  himself.  Some  other  guests  were  present. 
Two  of  these  were  officers  in  the  military  force  which  Alci- 
biades maintained  in  his  stronghold;  the  third  was  an  aged 
man,  who  had  been  his  tutor  many  years,  and  for  whom  he 
retained  an  aflfection  that  was  honorable  to  both  mas- 
ter and  pupil.  The  fourth  was  the  Thracian  chief  with 
whom  Alcibiades  had  been  engaged  when  the  Skylark  ar- 
rived. 

The  meal  was  simple.  The  chief  feature  was  one  of  the 
huge  turbot  for  which  the  Euxine  was  famous. 

"  That  would  have  cost  a  fortune  in  the  flsh  market  at 
Athens,"  said  the  host  pointing  to  the  dish,  "even  if  it 
could  have  been  procured  at  all.  Here  a  fisherman  thinks 
himself  well  paid  for  such  a  monster  by  three,  or  at  the 
most,  four  drachmas  "* 

A  piece  of  venison  and  a  platter  of  quails  were  the  other 
dishes.  The  second  course  consisted  of  a  pudding  and  some 
sweet-meats. 

During  the  repast  the  conversation  turned  speedily  on 

*  Three  draclimius  would  be  something  more  than  half  a  dollar. 
(2  6.  5  d.  in  English  money).  This  Is  taking  silver  at  its  present  conven- 
tional value.  What  its  purchasing  power  would  be  now  it  would  be 
difficult  to  say,  but  it  would  certainly  be  greater  than  that  of  the  sum 
by  which  it  is  represented. 


CALLIA8.  115 

local  matters,  and  was  carried  on  (but  not  till  after  a  courte- 
ous apology  had  been  offered  to  the  young  Athenian)  in  the 
bastard  Greek  largely  mixed  with  Thracian  words,  in 
which  the  chief  was  accustomed  to  express  himself.  The 
meal  ended,  a  handsome  silver  cup  was  handed  by  the 
major-domo,  a  venerable  looking  man,  who  made  the  comfort 
of  his  master  and  his  most  honored  guests  his  special  care. 
Alcibiades  took  it  and  poured  out  a  few  drops  upon  the 
table,  uttering  as  he  did  so,  the  words:  "  To  Athene  the 
Champion."  This  was  equivalent  to  the  loyal  toasts  of  an 
English  banquet.  He  then  took  a  very  moderate  draught,  the 
wine  being  unmixed,  in  obedience  to  the  rule  which  demanded 
that-all  wine  used  in  religious  ceremonies — and  this  libation 
was  such  a  ceremony — should  be  pure.*  He  then  tipped  the 
cup  to  each  guest  in  turn.  All  were  equally  moderate,  for  it 
was  not  the  custom,  even  for  a  Greek  drunkard,  it  may  be 
said,  to  drink  his  wine  unmixed.  But  when  the  cup  came 
to  the  Thracian  chief  he  drank  a  deep  draught  as  if  the 
liquor  had  been  liberally  diluted.  CaUias  who  had  never 
been  at  table  with  a  Thracian  before,  watched  the  man  with 
amazement.  He  saw  that  while  the  other  guests  were  sup- 
plied with  the  usual  mixtures  of  wine  and  water  the  chief 
remained  steadfast  in  his  devotion  to  the  undiluted  liquid, 
and  that  he  emptied  his  cup  at  a  draught,  and  that  the  cup 
itself  was  of  an  unusual  capacity.  Nor  did  the  drinker  seem 
affected  by  these  extraordinary  potations,  except  that  his 
voice  became  louder  and  his  manner  more  boastful.  At 
last,  however,  and  that  without  a  moment's  notice,  he 
rolled  over  senseless  on  his  back.  So  sudden  was  the 
change  that  it  suggested  the  idea  of  a  fit. 
"Is   he   ill?"    he   whispered    in   some   alarm. 

•  So  we  have  In  Homer  (Iliad  11,281)  "the  libations  of  wineunmingled" 
mentioned  together  with  "  the  hana-holt  trusted  of  yore,"  a  thing  that 
gave  a  solemn  sanction  to  treaties.  Himllar  references  abound  In  the 
Greek  and  Latin  poets. 


116  CALL  I  AS. 

"  111?  not  a  whit.  It  is  the  way  in  which  he  always 
finishes  his  evenings.  His  slaves  will  carry  him  to  bed,  and 
he  will  awake  to-morrow  morning  without  the  suspicion  of 
a  headache.  Bacchus,  I  verily  believe,  has  a  special  favor 
for  these  fellows,  and,  truly,  they  do  worship  him  with  a 
most  admirable  earnestftess." 

The  Thracian's  collapse  was  the  signal  for  breaking  up  the 
party.  Callias  and  the  old  tutor,  Timanthes  by  name, 
declined  to  drink  any  more,  and  the  two  officers,  who  were 
on  duty  for  the  night,  departed  to  make  their  round. 
Strong  as  was  the  place  Alcibiades  omitted  no  precautions 
for  its  safe  custody.  Timanthes,  who  was  old  and  feeble,re> 
tired  to  rest. 

*'  Come  with  me  to  my  own  room,"  said  Alcibiades  to  his 
guest,  "  we  shall  be  here  alone." 

The  chamber  to  which  he  led  the  way  was  little  like  what 
one  would  expect  to  find  in  a  free-hooter's  stronghold,  for 
really  the  castle  of  Bisanthe  was  more  of  that  than  any- 
thing else.  Art  and  letters  were  amply  represented  in  it. 
On  one  wall  hung  a  panel  painting*  by  Polygnotus,  a 
masterly  composition,  of  that  serenity,  that  ethical  mean- 
ing, as  the  great  critic  Aristotle  expresses  it,  which  was 
characteristic  of  the  artist.  This  represented  the  gods  in 
council  at  Olympus.  It  was  faced  on  the  opposite  wall 
by  an  exceedingly  graceful  painting  from  the  hand  of 
Zeuxis,  Aphrodite  and  the  Graces,  and  a  spirited  picture  by 
the  same  artist,  of  the  duel  between  Ajax  and  Hector. 
There  were  other  works  by  men  of  less  note.  Sculpture 
was  represented  by  only  a  single  specimen,  a  bust  of 
Socrates. 

''Paintings  are  easily  carried  about,"  Alcibiades  after- 
wards explained  to  his  guest,  "  but  sculpture  is  inconven- 

•  The  ancients  painted  on  panel,  not  on  canvas.  Thus  the  Latin 
equivalent  for  'picture'  is  taoella  or  tabula,  words  which  may  other- 
wise be  used  for  a '  plank.' 


CALLIAS.  117 

iently  heavy.  You  will  understand  that  a  man  in  my 
situation  has  always  to  be  ready  for  a  move;  and  I  always 
like  to  have  two  or  three  really  good  things  that  I 
can  always  take  with  me.  One  bust,  indeed,  I  have  indulged 
myself  with,  that  of  my  old  teacher.  Ah !  if  I  had  heard  him 
to  more  purpose,  I  should  not  be  here!  You  know  him, 
of  course?" 

CalUas  said  that  he  did. 

"  An  excellent  likeness  .'is  it  not?  Who  would  think  that 
such  features  concealed  a  soul  so  divinely  beautiful  ?  Did 
you  have  any  talk  with  him  when  you  were  in  Athens?  " 

"  Yes,"  repUed  Callias,  "  and  I  admired  above  all  things 
his  practical  wisdom.  But  what  was  that  to  what  I  after- 
wards saw  of  him  ?  " 

And  he  went  on  to  relate  how  the  philosopher  stood  firm, 
though  in  imminent  peril  of  his  life,  and  had  steadfastly  re- 
fused to  put  the  unconstituttonal  proposal  of  Callixenus  to  the 
assembly. 

Alcibiades  heard  the  story  with  uncontrollable  delight. 
He  started  up  from  his  seat,  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room  with  flashing  eyes.  "Tell  me  everything  about  it," 
he  said,  and  he  insisted  upon  the  repetition  of  every  detail. 
"That  is  magnificent,"  he  cried,  when  his  curiosity  had 
been  satisfied.  "That  is  exactly  what  one  would  have  ex- 
pected from  Socrates.  I  suppose  that  it  is  the  very  first 
time  that  he  ever  acted  as  presiding  magistrate — he  had 
never  been  so,  I  know,  when  I  left  Athens,  nor  have  I 
heard  of  his  having  been  since — and  that  first  time  he  did 
what  nobody  else  dared  to  do.  You  say  that  the  others 
gave  way?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Callias,  "  they  stood  up  against  it  at  first, 
but  gave  in  afterwards.  Socrates  was  absolutely  alone,  and  at 
last  they  put  the  question  without  him." 


118  CALLIAS. 

"It  is  just  like  him,"  cried  Alcibiades  witti  enthusiasm. 

"  He  is  simply  the  bravest  and  most  enduring  man  alive. 
I  could  tell  you  stories  about  him  that  would  astonish  you. 
We  served  together  in  the  campaign  at  Potidsea.  Indeed  we 
were  in  the  same  mess.  When  we  had  short  commons,  as 
we  had  many  a  time,  there  was  no  one  like  him  in  hold- 
ing out.  He  seemed  to  be  able  to  go  without  food  altogether, 
but  when  we  had  plenty,  he  could  enjoy  it  as  well  as  any 
body.  We  had  a  foolish  way,  as  young  men  will,  of  making 
people  drink  whether  they  wished  it  or  not.  But  nothing 
ever  affected  Socrates.  No  one  ever  saw  him  one  whit  the 
worse  for  what  he  had  taken.  And  as  for  the  way  in  which 
he  bore  cold,  it  was  absolutely  incredible,  only  that 
one  saw  it  with  one's  own  eyes.  The  winters  here  are  terrible, 
as  you  will  find  out,  if,  as  I  hope  you  will,  you  stop  with 
me,  but  he  used  to  make  nothing  of  them.  During  the 
very  hardest  frost  we  had,  when  everyone  who  could  stayed 
in  doors,  and  those  who  were  obliged  to  go  out  wrapi^ed 
themselves  till  you  would  hardly  know  them,  he  wore 
nothing  but  his  conmion  cloak,  and  went  absolutely  barefoot. 

"Once,  I  remember,  something  came  into  his  mind. 
That  was  in  the  early  morning.  Well,  he  stood  trying  to 
think  it  out  till  noon,  and  from  noon  he  went  on  till 
evening.  Some  Greeks  from  Asia  wanted  to  see  how  long 
this  would  go  on;  so,  after  dinner,  they  brought  out  their 
mattresses,  and  took  up  their  quarters  for  the  night  in  the 
open  air — ^it  was  summer-time,  you  must  understand.  Some 
of  them  slept,  and  some  watched  him,  taking  it  by  turns. 
Their  report  was  that  he  stood  there  till  morning,  and  the 
sun  rose,  and  that  then  he  made  a  prayer  to  the  sun,  and  so 
went  to  his  quarters. 

"  His  courage,  too,  is  astonishing.  In  one  of  the  battles 
at    Potideea   he   saved   my   life.     I   had   been   wounded 


CALLIAS.  U9 

and  must  infallibly  have  been  killed,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  him.  He  took  me  up  and  carried  me  off  to  our 
line.  The  generals  gave  me  the  prize  for  valor, "when  they 
ought,  by  right,  to  have  given  it  to  him.  But  they  took  ac- 
count of  my  family  and  rank,  and  curiously  enough,  he  was 
just  as  anxious  as  they  were  that  I  should  have  it  and  not 
he.  Then  at  DeUum,  again,  when  the  day  went  against  us, 
and  the  army  was  in  full  retreat,  I  was  in  the  cavalry;  he 
was  serving  as  a  foot  soldier.  Our  men  would  not  keep  to- 
gether, and  he  and  Laches — he  was  killed,  afterwards,  at 
Mantinea — ^were  making  the  best  of  their  way  back.  I  rode 
up  to  them  and  told  thenj  to  keep  up  their  courage  and  I  would 
not  leave  them.  A  cavahy  soldier  has,  you  know,  a  great  ad- 
vantage in  a  retreat.  There  was  no  need  to  tell  Socrates  to 
keep  up  his  courage.  Laches,  I  could  see,  though  a  brave 
enough  man,  was  terribly  frightened;  but  Socrates  was  as 
cool  as  a  man  could  be.  He  held  up  his  head  finely,  and 
marched  steadily  on.  It  was  plain  enough  to  see  that  any- 
one who  meddled  with  him  would  find  out  his  mistake. 
The  end  of  it  was  that  he  got  back  safe,  and  brought  Laches 
back  safe  also.  The  fact  is  that  at  such  times  it  is  the  men  who 
are  in  a  hurry  to  get  away  that  are  cut  down.  I  do  not 
think  that  there  ever  was  a  braver  man  than  Socrates.  And 
what  you  have  just  been  telling  me  bears  it  out.  A  man 
may  be  brave  enough  in  battle  and  be  timidly  frightened 
when  the  assembly  is  howling  and  raging  against  him. 
This  has  been  a  dismal  business  of  the  generals  and  I  have 
never  been  so  near  despairing  of  my  country,  as  I  have  since 
I  heard  it.  How  is  it  possible  to  help  a  city  that  makes 
such  a  requital  to  those  who  save  her  ?  But  still,  while  there 
are  men  like  Socrates  in  her,  all  is  not  lost.  But  no  more  now ; 
you  must  be  weary,  and  ready  to  sleep.  There  will  be  plenty 
of  time  hereafter  to  talk.    And  now  farewell." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

BISANTHE. 

Life  at  Bisanthe  would,  in  any  case,  have  been  re- 
markably attractive  to  Callias.  The  taste  for  sport  was 
hereditary  with  him,  as  it  was  with  most  Athenians  of  his 
class.  But,  ever  since  his  boyhood,  circumstances  had  been 
altogether  adverse  to  any  indulgence  of  it.  For  a  quarter  of  a 
century  an  Athenian's  hfe  had  been  perforce  a  city  life.* 
The  country  outside  the  walls  was  not  available  for 
when  it  was  not  actually  in  the  occupation  of  a  hostile 
army,  it  was  still  in  a  state  of  desolation.  Game,  it  is  proba- 
ble, had  almost  disappeared  from  it.  It  had  long  been  too 
thickly  populated  for  the  larger  animals  to  exist  in  it. 
These  the  sportsman  had  been  obliged  to  seek  in  the  moun- 
tain regions  of  Phocis,  Doris,  and  Thessaly .  Now  the  smaller 
such  as  the  hare,  always  reckoned  a  special  dainty  in 
Athens,  could  scarcely  be  found,  even  when  it  was  possible  to 
seek  for  it.  Callias  was  delighted  to  find  a  totally  different 
condition  of  things  at  Bisanthe.  Here  there  were  to  be 
found  fierce  and  powerful  animals  the  pursuit  of  which  gave 
something  of  the  deUghtful  excitement  of  danger,  the  bear, 
the  wild-boar,  and  the  wolf.  Lions,  too,  could  be  sometimes 
seen,  though  they  were  not  so  common  as  they  had  been 
some  eighty  years  before  when  the  army  of  Xerxes,  march- 

*  Prom  431  to  406  (the  year  of  which  I  am  now  writing).  The  eight 
years  from  424-416,  during  which  the  peace  of  Nicias  and  the  truce  that 
followed  it  were  in  force,  must  be  excepted. 


CALLIAS.  121 

ing  through  this  very  region,  had  had'so  many  of  the  camels 
attacked  and  killed  by  them.  Our  young  Athenian  highly 
appreciated  this  abundance  of  noble  game.  He  had  had  no 
experience,  indeed,  in  the  huntsman's  craft,  but  he  became 
fairly  expert  at  it.  He  was  an  excellent  rider;  this  accom- 
plisliment  was  a  necessary  part  of  the  education  of  a  well-born 
Athenian.  He  was  expert  in  all  martial  exercises,  especially 
in  the  vise  of  the  javelin  dnd  the  spear;  and,  above  aU,  he 
had  a  cool  courage  which  his  warlike  experience  by  land  and 
sea  had  admirably  developed. 

But  there  were  more  serious  matters  than  sport  to  occupy 
him.  The  relation  of  his  host  to  his  neighbors,  both  Greek 
and  barbarian,  was  of  curious  interest  to  a  thoughtful  young 
man.  He  had  heard  something  of  it  at  Athens,  for  Aleibiar 
des  was  a  much  talked  of  personage,  all  of  whose  movements 
were  earnestly,  even  anxiously,  discussed  both  by  friends 
and  foes.  Now  he  was,  so  to  speak,  behind  the  scenes,  and 
saw  and  heard  much  that  the  outside  world  did  not  know 
or  did  not  understand.  The  neighbors  with  whom  his  host 
came  in  contact,  friendly  or  unfriendly,  were  three.  There 
were  the  Greek  cities  along  the  northern  coast  of 
the  Propontis ;  there  was  Seuthes,  the  king  of  Thrace ; 
a  potentate  whose  kingdom  had  many  uncertain  and 
varying  boundaries,  and  there  were  the  free  or  inde- 
l)endent  Thracians.  Between  these  last  and  Alcibiades 
there  was  constant  war.  Accustomed  for  centuries  to 
plunder  their  neighbors,  they  now  found  themselves  repaid 
in  their  own  coin.  At  the  head  of  a  picked  force,  highly 
disciplined  and  admirably  armed,  Alcibiades  harried  their 
country  with  an  audacity  and  a  skill  which  made 
his  name  a  constant  terror  to  them.  The  Greek  cities, 
on  the  other  hand,  were  uniformly  friendly.  Before 
his  coming  they  had  been  sadly  harassed  and  distressed  by 


122  CALL  I  AS. 

their  barbarian  neighbors.  They  had  not  been  able  to  call 
anything  beyond  their  walls  exactly  their  own,  and  even 
their  walls  had  sometimes  scarcely  sufficed  to  protect  thena. 
All  this  was  altered  by  the  military  genius  of  this  remarka- 
ble man.  The  robber  bands  "which  had  been  accustomed  to 
ride  unchecked  up  to  their  fortifications  were  now  compelled 
to  keep  at  a  respectful  distance  from  them,  and  not  only  the 
cities  themselves  but  their  territories  were  practically  safe. 
Land  which  it  had  been  impossible  to  cultivate  at  all,  or 
from  which  only  a  precarious  crop  could  be  snatched  with 
imminent  danger  to  the  cultivator,  was  now  covered  with 
prosperous  farms  and  pleasant  homesteads.  For  this  pro- 
tection, enabling  them  as  it  did  to  save  the  exhausting  ex- 
pense of  imported  food,  the  cities  were  willing  to  pay,  and 
considerable  sums  which  were  practically  a  tribute,  only 
much  more  cheerfully  paid,  came  regularly  into  the 
treasury  at  Bisanthe,  and  enabled  its  master  to  keep  up  a 
numerous  and  efficient  force. 

As  for  King  Seuthes,  his  relations  with  the  powerful 
stranger  who  had  settled  on  these  his  territories  were  more 
doubtful.  He  was  not  an  enemy,  but  he  certainly  was  not 
a  friend.  All  that  Alcibiades  could  do  in  weakening  the 
independent  Thracians  was  altogether  to  his  mind. 
Let  them  be  weakened  enough,  and  they  would  gladly  seek 
protection  by  becoming  his  subjects.  On  the  other  hand  he 
did  not  approve  the  idea  of  anyone  but  himself  becoming 
the  patron  of  the  Greek  cities  on  his  coast.  What  they 
were  willing  to  pay  for  protection  ought  to  come,  he  felt, 
into  his  coffers,  not  into  those  of  an  interloping  adventurer. 
Meanwhile  he  was  content  to  remain  on  outwardly  good 
terms  with  the  master  of  Bisanthe,  and  to  await  the  develop- 
ment of  events. 

In  the  little  town  of  the  same  name  that  was  dominated 


CALLIAS.  123 

by  the  castle  of  Bisanthe,  the  yomig  Athenian  found  some 
pleasant  society.  He  was  the  more  at  home  in  it  because  it 
was  an  Ionian  colony,  and  the  inhabitants  were  akin  to 
him  in  race  and  sympathies.  They  had  the  same  culture,  a 
quality  that  always  flourished  more  kindly  in  the  Ionic 
branch  of  the  Hellenic  race.  Plays  of  the  great  dramatists 
of  his  own  country  were  performed  in  a  small  but  weU  ap- 
pointed theatre,  and  there  was  at  least  one  CHrele  in  the 
town  in  which  literary  topics  were  discussed  with  interest 
and  intelligence. 

The  resources  available  in  the  way  of  native  society  were 
not  great.  Thracian  habits  in  general  were  not  unfairly 
represented  by  the  behavior  of  tlie  chief  to  whom  ray  readers 
were  introduced  in  the  last  chapter.  Their  hard  drinking 
habits  had  already  made  them  notorious  throughout  Greece. 
Our  hero  accordingly  kept  away  from  the  entertainments 
which  his  host  felt  it  a  matter  of  policy  to  attend.  The  one 
great  social  function  at  which  he  assisted  was  the  marriage 
of  a  prince  who  was  nearly  related  to  King  Seuthes. 
Athenian  habits  were  commonly  frugal.  Their  pubUc 
buildings,  whether  for  political  or  religious  purposes,  were 
splendid  in  the  extreme.  On  these,  and  on  the  ceremonies 
of  worship,  they  were  accustomed  to  spare  no  expense.  But 
their  private  expenditure  was,  as  a  rule,  not  large.  Our 
hero  was  proportionately  astonished  at  the  profusion  whicli 
prevailed  at  the  wedding  festivities  of  the  Thracian 
Caranus.  There  were  twenty  guests.  Eacli  as  he  entered 
the  banqueting  chamtjer  had  a  circle  of  gold  put  ujx)n  his 
head,  and  in  taking  his  place  was  presented  with  a  silver 
cup.  These  and  indeed  all  the  dishes,  plates,  and  cups  with 
which  the  guests  were  furnished  during  the  entertainment, 
were  supposed  to  become  their  actual  property.  A  brass 
platter,  covere<l  with  pastry,  on  wliieli  were  birds  of  various 


124  CALLIA8. 

kinds,  was  put  before  each,  and  after  this  another  of  silver, 
furnished  with  a  variety  of  fresli  meats.  These  disposed  of 
— they  were  Just  tasted  and  handed  to  the  slaves  who  stood 
behind  the  guests — two  flasks  of  perfume,  one  of  silver,  the 
other  of  gold,  fastened  together  with  a  link  of  gold,  were 
distributed.  Each  flask  held  about  lialf  a  pint.  Then  came 
a  piece  of  quite  barbarous  extravagance — a  silver  gilt  charger, 
large  enough  to  hold  a  porker  of  considerable  size.  The 
creature  lay  on  its  back  with  its  belly  stufTed  with  thrushes, 
the  yolks  of  eggs,  oysters,  scollops,  and  other  dainties.  The 
carryiftg  capacity  of  the  slaves  was  nearly  exhausted,  and 
the  bridegroom  received  a  hearty  round  of  applause  when  he 
ordered  his  guests  to  be  supplied  with  baskets,  themselves 
richly  ornamented  with  silver  in  which  they  might  carry 
away  his  bounty. 

At  this  point  Alcibiades  and  his  friend  made  an  excuse  to 
depart.  "Caranus,"  said  the  former,  as  they  returned  to 
Bisanthe,  "must  have  embarrassed  himself  for  life  by  this 
silly  extravagance.  He  must  have  borrowed  money  largely 
before  he  could  indulge  in  all  this  silver-ware,  for  though 
his  estates  are  large,  he  is  far  from  being  wealtliy.  •  But  it 
is  a  point  of  honor  with  these  people  to  go  as  near  to  ruining 
themselves  as  the  money-lender  will  permit  them,  when 
they  celebrate  a  birth,  a  wedding,  or  a  funeral." 

But  Callias  found  the  chief  interest  of  the  months  which 
he  spent  at  Bisanthe  in  the  frequent  conversations  which 
he  held  with  his  host.  In  these  Alcibiades  expressed  him- 
self with  the  utmost  freedom  and  frankness.  What  he  said 
was  in  fact  at  once  a  confession  and  an  apology,  the  sub- 
stance of  them  may  be  given  as  follows: 

"  You  have  heard  I  dare  say  very  much  evil  of  me,  and  I 
cannot  deny  that  much  of  it  is  perfectly  true.  It  ill  becomes 
a  man  to  complain  of  circumstances,  for  everj'one,  I  take  it, 


CALLIAS.  125 

can  make  his  own  life  and  if  he  goes  to  ruin  has  only  him- 
self to  blame  for  it.  Yet  the  gods,  or  fate,  or  whatever  it  is 
that  rules  the  world,  were  certainly  adverse  to  me  from  the 
1  toginnrng.  My  father  fell  at  Coronea  when  I  was  but  a 
mere  child,  and  the  loss  of  a  father  is  especially  damaging 
when  his  son  is  rich  and  noble.  Everyone  seems  to  agree 
in  spoiUng  the  boy,  the  lad,  the  young  maij,  who  is  the 
master  of  his  own  fortune.  I  know  that  I  was  fooled  to  the 
top  of  my  bent.  However,  that  is  all  past,  and  the  free  man 
who  lets  others  turn  him  about  to  their  own  purposes  has 
nothing  to  say  in  his  own  defence;  and  I  had  at  least  one 
good  thing  on  my  side  of  which  if  I  had  been  so  minded  I 
might  have  made  good  use.  Socrates  never  wearied  of  con- 
victing me  out  of  my  own  mouth  of  folly  and  ignorance, 
and  he  knew  my  great  weakness  and  told  me  of  it  in  the 
most  unsparing  fashion.  I  remember  once  how  he  convicted 
me  of  what  I  know  has  been  the  great  fault  of  my  life.  '  If, 
he  said, 'you  can  convince  the  Athenians  that  you  deser\'e 
to  be  honored  as  no  man,  not  even  Pericles  himself  deserved, 
if  you  gain  an  equal  name  among  the  other  Greeks  and 
barbarians,  if  you  cross  over  from  Europe  and  meddle 
with  matters  in  Asia,  all  these  things  will  not  satisfy 
you.  You  desire  to  be  nothing  less  tlian  master  of  the 
whole  human  race.'  That  perhaps  was  somewhat  exag- 
gerated, but  I  certainly  have  had  big  schemes  in  my  head, 
bigger  than  I  ever  had,  or  could  hope  to  have,  tlie  means  of 
carrying  out.  My  hopes  took  in  all  Greece,  Persia,  Carthage, 
the  Western  barbarians  who  inhabit  the  shores  of  the  ocean, 
and  I  know  not  what  else.  It  was  too  great  a  structure  to  build 
on  the  slight  foundation  of  an  Athenian  dock-yard;  it  was 
piling  Olympus  and  Ossa  and  Pelion  on  the  hill  of 
Hymettus,  and  such  structures  are  sure  to  fall  even  without 
the   thunder-bolt  of  Zeus.     Yet  it    is  only  fair    to   my- 


126  CALLIAS. 

self  to  say  that  in  my  ambitions  I  did  think  of  my  country 
as  well  as  of  myself;  and  I  think  that  I  have  not  always  had 
fair  play  in  carrying  them  out.  There  was  the  expedition  to 
Sicily,  for  instance.  I  suppose  that  no  one  will  ever  speak  of 
it  but  as  a  piece  of  hair-brained  folly  into  which  I  was  the 
means  of  leading  Athens.  Looked  at  by  the  event,  it  seems 
so,  I  allow,  and  yet  it  might  have  succeeded.  Indeed  it  was 
within  an  iota  of  succeeding,  and  this  though  the  people 
showed  the  incredible  folly  of  putting  as  senior  in  command, 
a  man  who  hated  the  whole  business.  Even  Nicias  almost 
took  Syracuse.  If  they  had  only  left  me  without  a  col- 
league or  with  colleagues  who  would  have  yielded  to  my 
counsels  !  But  what  did  they  do  ?  .lust  at  the  critical  time 
they  recalled  the  man  whom  everyone  in  the  expedition,  from 
the  first  to  the  last,identifled  with  its  success;  and  why  did  they 
recall  me  ?  On  that  trumpery  charge  of  having  broken 
the  Hermse.  *  You  would  like  to  ask  me,  I  know,  whether 
I  had  anything  to  do  with  the  matter.  No;  I  had  not,  but  I 
could  have  told  them  aU  about  it  if  I  had  had  the  chance.  As 
it  was,  they  were  ready  to  listen  to  anyone  but  me.  Why, 
there  was  an  outrageous  liar  came  forward,  and  declared  he 
had  seen  the  whole  thing  done  by  the  light  of  the  moon; 
and  on  the  night  it  was  done  there  was  no  moon  at 
all.  But  I  had  enemies,  personal  enemies  who  would  stick 
at  nothing  as  long  as  they  could  injure  me.  And  here  I 
must  confess  a  fault,  a  fault  that  has  been  fatal  to  me.  I  de- 
served to  have  enemies.  I  made  them  by  my  annoyance 
and  insolence;  and  if  they  ruined  me,  and,  as  I  think,  my 
country  with  me,  I  have  only  myself  to  blame.  You 
would  like  to  know  how  I  justify  myself  for  what  I  did  after 

*  A  day  or  two  before  the  expedition  started  the  pedestal  statues  of 
Hermes  which  stood  at  the  street  corners  were  broken  down.  Alclbiades 
was  charged  with  being  an  accomplice  in  this  outrage.refused  an  oppor- 
tunity of  defending  himself,  sent  out  in  Joint  command,  and  recalled 
when  the  campaign  was  in  progress. 


CALLIAS.  127 

my  banishment,  for  getting  Sparta  to  help  Syracuse  against 
my  own  country  ?  I  do  not  justify  myself  at  all.  It  was 
madness,  tho'  it  was  only  too  successful.  But  it  made  me 
frantic  to  tliink  what  a  chance,  what  a  splendid  opportunity 
for  myself  and  for  Athens,  the  fools  who  were  in  power  at 
liome  were  throwing  away.  No;  on  that  point  I  have 
nothing  to  say  for  myself.  But  since  then  I  have  honestly 
tried  to  do  the  best  that  I  could  for  the  city.  And  if  the 
Athenians  could  only  have  trusted  me  and  had  had  a 
little  more  patience,  I  believe  that  I  could  have  saved  them. 
But  it  is  always  the  same  story  with  them;  they  must  have 
what  they  want  at  once,  and  if  they  don't  get  it,  some  one 
has  to  suffer.  How  could  they  expect  that  I  could  put  right 
at  once  all  that  had  been  going  wrong  for  years  ?  " 

Such  was  .the  substance  of  what  Alci blades  said  to  his 
guest  on  the  many  occasions  on  which  they  discussed  these 
matters,  said,  of  course,  with  a  variety  of  detail  and  a 
wealth  of  illustration,  wliich  it  is  impossible  to  reproduce. 
More  than  once  Callias  asked  his  host  what  were  his  views 
and  expectations  of  the  future  of  the  war.  He  found  that 
Alcibiades  did  not  take  a  cheerful  view  of  the  prospects  of 
the  campaign  that  would  be  soon  beginning. 

"I  was  always  afraid,"  he  said,  "that  the  victory  at 
Arginusae  would  be  only  a  reprieve,  a  postponing  of  the 
evil  day.  The  effort  which  Athens  then  made  was  too  ex- 
hausting to  be  repeated — her  next  fleet  will  be  nothing  like 
as  good  a.s  the  last,  and  the  last  had  hard  enough  work  to 
win  the  day.  And  then  there  was  the  disastrous  folly  and 
crime  of  putting  the  generals  to  death.  Mind,  I  don't  say 
that  they  were  not  to  blame;  but  I  do  say  that  to  kill  the 
only  good  officers  the  city  had,  even  if  they  had  deserved 
death  ten  times  more  than  they  did,  was  mere  madness. 
Whom  have  they  got  to  put  in  their  place?    Conon  is  a  man 


128  CALLIAS. 

who  knows  his  business  and  would  do  his  duty,  but  as  for 
the  rest,"  he  went  on,  anticipating  a  witticism  which  was 
made  many  hundred  years  afterwards  by  an  English  states- 
man, "I  can  only  say  that  I  hope  they  will  inspire  the 
enemy  with  half  the  terror  with  which  they  inspire  me." 


I 


CHAPTEE  XV.  • 

JEQOS  POTAMI. 

Alcibiadbs  had  established  a  system  of  communication 
with  all  the  principal  stations  in  the  ^gean  which  gave  him 
early  information  of  what  was  going  on. 

Early  in  the  new  year  (405)  intelligence  reached  him  at  his 
castle,  that  Lysander  was  coming  out  from  Sparta  to  assume 
the  command  of  the  allied  fleet.  This  news  affected  Alci- 
biades  very  considerably. 

"  I  anticipated  this,"  he  said  to  his  guest  after  the  evening 
meal  on  the  day  when  the  news  had  reached  him,  "  and  it 
is  the  worst  thing  that  could  have  happened  for  Athens. 
There  was  just  a  chance  that  the  Spartans,  who,  happily  for 
us,  are  very  stupid  and  obstinate,  would  stick  to  their 
rule  that  no  man  should  be  appointed  naval  commander-in- 
chief  thrice.  But  they  had,  as  I  heard  from  a  friend  in 
Chios,  a  very  strong  requisition  from  the  allies  to  appoint 
Lysander,  and  so  they  have  sent  him  out  again,  saving 
their  rule  by  appointing  a  nominal  chief,  a  man  called  Ar- 
aehus,  who,  of  course,  is  a  mere  figure  head.  Now  Lysan- 
der is  by  far  the  ablest  man  that  the  Spartans  have  got;  he 
is  quite  unscrupulous;  he  is  a  bitter  enemy  of  ours;  and  what 
is  worst  of  all,  he  can  do  anything  that  he  pleases  with 
Cyrus,  You  have  not  been  campaigning  for  two  or  three 
years  without  finding  out  that  the  Persian  money  bags  are 
the  real  weights  that  make  the  scales  of  fate  go  up  and 


13e  CALLIAS. 

down.  Last  year  Callicratidas  was  crippled  because  Cyrus, 
at  this  very  Lysander's  request,  kept  his  purse  strings 
tight.  Now  everything  will  be  straight  and  easy,  and  before 
two  months  are  over  the  Spartans  will  have  as  good  a  fleet 
as  money  can  make."  The  year  wore  slowly  on.  The 
long  Thraeian  winter,  which  Calliaa,  though  not  unused  to 
cold  weather  in  Athens  found  exceedingly  severe,  yielded  at 
last  to  spring,  and  spring  in  its  turn  to  summer.  All  the 
while  the  news  which  reached  Bisanthe  continued  to  have 
a  gloomy  complexion.  At  Miletus,  as  well  as  in  other  of 
the  mainland  towns,  thorough-going  partisans  of  Ly- 
sander  were  installed  in  power.  Cyrus  had  been  called 
away  to  Upper  Asia,  where  the  old  king,  his  father, 
was  lying  sick  to  death,  and  had  left  all  his  treasuries  at  the 
disposal  of  the  Spartan  admiral.  With  this  supply  of  money 
the  pay  of  the  sailors  had  been  increased,  and  new  ships 
had  been  laid  down  on  the  stocks.  In  March  the  Athenian 
fleet  sailed  for  the  seat  of  war.  It  was  larger  than 
any  that  had  been  sent  forth  by  the  city  in  recent 
years,  for  it  nmnbered  no  less  than  one  hundred  and 
eighty  ships;  but  private  letters  gave  an  unfavorable 
account  of  the  way  in  which  it  was  equipped,  and  offi- 
cered. This  adverse  opinion  continued  to  be  borne 
out  by  the  news  that  arrived  from  time  to  time  of  its  doings. 
It  seemed  to  be  moving  about  aimlessly  and  fruitlessly,  al- 
ways behind,  always  in  the  wrong  place.  It  offered 
battle  to  Lysander,  who  lay  in  harbor  near  Ephesus,  but  in 
vain.  The  wary  Spartan  had  no  mind  to  fight  but  at  his 
owm  time,  and  the  Athenian  admirals  had  no  way  of  com- 
pelling him.  Then  the  ships  were  scattered  in  plundering 
expeditions  along  the  mainland  coasts  and  among  the 
islands  which  had  accepted  the  Spartan  alliance.     The  gain 


OALLTA.S'.  131 

was  small,  for  the  booty  was  insignificant,  but  the  demorali- 
zation and  relaxation  of  discipline  were  great.  About  mid- 
summer followed  a  bold  maneuver  on  the  part  of  Lysander. 
He  sailed  across  the  JEgean  to  the  coast  of  Attica,  where 
his  sudden  appearance  caused  no  little  consternation.  The 
Athenian  commanders  were  as  usual  behindhand.  If  they 
had  heard  of  this  movement  as  soon  as  they  ought,  and  had 
been  ready  to  follow  immediately,  it  is  quite  possible 
that  they  might  have  inflicted  a  damaging  blow  on  their 
adversaries.  As  it  was,  the  news  was  long  in  reaching 
them  and,  when  it  came,found  them  with  their  fleet  scattered 
and  unprepared.  Accordingly  they  missed  their  chance  of 
forcing  Lysander  to  an  engagement  off  an  hostile  shore,  an 
engagement,  too,  which  he  would  hardly  have  been  able  to 
tlecline.  Lysander  crossed  and  recrossed  the  ^gean  with- 
out molestation,  and  shortly  afterwards  sailed  northward. 

Alcibiades,  whose  intelligence  department  was,  a^  has 
been  said,  admirably  organized,  received  information  that 
this  movement  was  intended,  and  in  consequence  took  up 
his  quarters  at  a  Uttle  fort  which  he  possessed  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  Chersonesus.  He  and  his  guest  had  not  been 
there  more  than  a  day  when  the  Spartan  fleet  came  in  sight. 
He  watched  it  pass  at  a  distance  of  two  or  three  miles, 
with  eager  interest. 

"They  have  a  very  formidable  appearance,"  he  said  to 
Callias  when  he  had  scanned  with  his  practical  eye  every 
detail  of  their  equipment.  "  I  shall  be  agreeably  surprised 
if  our  ships  have  anything  as  good  to  show."  On  the  fol- 
lowing day  the  Athenian  fleet  appeared,  showing  only  too 
plainly  how  just  had  been  Alcibiades*  forebodings. 
The  effects  of  wind  and  weather — the  ships  had  now  been 
nearly  six  months  at  sea— were  plainly  visible;  the  sails. 


132  CALL  I  AH. 

which,  as  there  was  a  slight  breeze  from  the  west,  they  used 
to  assist  their  progress,  were  dirty  and  ragged;  the  rowers 
were  deplorably  out  of  time. 

"Things,"  he  said  to  his  companion,  "  are  even  worse 
than  I  expected;  that  fleet  will  be  no  match  for  its  enemy, 
except  under  far  niore  skillful  management  than  it  is  Ukely 
to  have.  Still  let  us  hope  for  the  best;  and  it  may  be  possi- 
ble to  give  our  friends  some  good  advice,  if  they  will  take 
it."  This,  unfortunately,  was  the  last  thing  that  the 
Athenian  admirals,  certainly  incompetent,  and  proba- 
bly traitorous,  were  willing  to  do.  The  progress  of  events, 
briefly  described,  was  this  : 

Lysander  possessed  himself,  by  a  sudden  attack,  of  the 
town  of  Lampsacus,  which  was  in  alliance  with  Athens. 
This  conquest  put  him  in  possession  of  abundant  supplies, 
and  of  what  was  more  valuable,  a  safe  and  convenient  base 
of  operations.  While  securing  these  material  advantages, 
he  also,  with  a  generosity  which  he  could  always  assume  on 
occasion,  allowed  the  Lampsacenes  to  go  unharmed.  He 
gained  thus  not  only  a  strong  position  but  a  friendly  popu- 
lation. On  the  other  hand  the  position  occupied  by  the 
Athenians  was  by  no  means  so  favorable.  They  moved 
their  fleet  to  the  mouth  of  a  little  stream  known  by  the 
name  of  ^gos  Potami,  or  the  Goat's  River.  This  spot 
was  directly  opposite  Iiampsacus — the  Hellespont  here  Is 
somewhat  less  than  two  miles  broad — but  it  had  no  con- 
veniences for  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  chosen.  There 
was  no  harbor,  the  anchorage  was  indifferent,  there  were  no 
houses  in  the  neighborhood,  and  the  nearest  point  from 
which  supplies  could  be  obtained  was  the  town  of  Sestoe, 
nearly  two  miles  distant. 

The  opportunity  for  offering  advice  which  Alcibiades  had 
foreseen  had  now  occurred,  and  he  promptly  took  advantage 


CALLIAS.  183 

of  it.  The  morning  after  the  arrival  of  the  fleet,  he  rode, 
with  Callias  in  his  company,  to  the  spot  where  the  Athenian 
generals  had  pitched  their  headquarters,  and  requested  an 
interview.  He  was  introduced  into  the  tent  which  they 
used  for  purposies  of  consultation,  and  saw  the  two  officers. 
Menander  and  Tydeus  by  name,  who  happened  to  be 
detailed  that  day  for  duty  on  shore. 

They  received  him  with  a  coldness  and  hauteur  which 
augured  ill  for  the  success  of  his  mission. 

"  Allow  me,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  to  ofler  you  a  piece  of 
advice  which,  from  my  knowledge  of  the  country,  I  feel 
sure  will  be  useful.  Transfer  your  fleet  from  this  position, 
which,  you  must  allow  me  to  say,  has  nothing  to  reconmaend 
it,  to  Sestos.  You  must  go  to  Sestos  for  your  supplies ;  why 
not  stay  there  altogether.  The  harbor  is  good  and  you  will 
be  able  to  do  what  you  please,  fight,  or  not  fight,  as  it  may 
seem  best.  Here,  if  it  comes  on  a  blow  from  the  south — and 
you  will  remember  that  the  equinox  is  near — you  will  be  in 
a  very  awkward  predicament ;  and,  anyhow,  I  do  not  see 
how  you  are  to  keep  your  men  together  when  they  have  to 
forage  in  this  manner  for  supplies." 

"  We  are  obliged  to  you  for  the  trouble  you  have  taken  in 
coming,"  said  Menander,  "  but  you  must  allow  us  to  remind 
you  that  it  is  we,  and  not  you  whom  the  Athenian  people 
have  appointed  to  the  command  of  this  fleet." 

"The gods  prosper  you  in  it."  replie<l  Aloibitules  with 
unruffled  coolness.    "  And  now,  farewell." 

"  I  have  done  all  that  I  could,"  observed  Alcibiades  to 
his  companion,  who  had  been  expecting  his  return  outside 
the  tent.  "Now  we  can  only  await  the  event.  As  for 
these  men,  I  would  say  of  them  that  the  gods  strike  with 
madness  those  whom  they  are  determined  to  destroy,  but 
for  one  thing.    There  may  be  a  method  in  their  madness. 


134  CALLIAS. 

They  may  mean  to  bring  about  a  disaster.  In  a  word  they 
may  have  sold  their  country.  It  is  a  hard  thing  to  say  of 
any  man,  but  could  any  admiral,  not  being  a  madman  or  a 
traitor,  keep  his  fleet  in  such  a  place  as  this  ?  And  yet  I  do 
not  know.  I  have  seen  honest  men  act  with  a  folly  so  out- 
rageous that  one  could  not  help  suspecting  something  more. 
Let  us  go  home,  and  prepare  for  the  worst.  But  stay — ^there 
is  yet  a  chance.  There  is  Conou.  He  must  know  better 
than  this.  Will  you  see  him  ?  I  cannot,  for  there  is  too 
ileadly  a  feud  between  us.    Do  you  know  him?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Callias,  "  I  was  with  him  last  year  when  he 
was  shut  up  in  Mitylene,  and  he  sent  me  with  despatches 
to  Athens." 

"  And  will  you  go  to  him  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  it  would  not  seem  too  presumptuous." 

"  You  can  give  your  authority  ;  he  will  understand  why 
I  did  not  come  myself ;  and  he  is  too  sensible  not  to  listen 
to  good  advice  from  whomsoever  it  may  come." 

Conon  was  on  board  his  ship  in  which  he  was  practicing 
some  maneuvers  about  half  a  mile  from  the  shore.  The 
yovmg  Athenian  was  rowed  out  to  see  him,  and  returned  in 
about  an  hour.  The  report  which  he  brought  back  was 
this: 

"  Conon  was  very  reserved,  but  courteous.  He  wished 
me  to  thank  you  for  your  message,  and  to  say  he  was  sure 
you  wished  well  to  Athens.  He  would  do  what  he  could, 
but  he  was  only  one  out  of  many,  and  he  might  be  out-voted. 
Anyhow,  he  would  keep  his  own  men  from  straggling." 

"  Then,"  said  Alcibiades,  "  we  have  shot  our  last  bolt,  let 
us  go  back." 

For  some  days  the  two  companions  waited  for  news  in  a 
suspense  that  they  often  felt  to  be  almost  beyond  bearing. 
One  night— it  was  the  night  of  the  fifteenth  of  September— 


CALLIAS.  135 

they  had  watched  through  the  hours  of  darkness  till  the  day 
began  to  show  itself  in  the  eastern  sky.  Both  had  felt  the 
presentiment  that  their  waiting  was  about  to  end,  though 
neither  had  acknowledged  it  to  the  other. 

"  Is  it  never  coming?"  said  the  elder  man,  as  he  rose  from 
his  seat,  and  looked  from  the  window  across  the  sea,  just 
beginning  to  glitter  with  the  morning  light.  In  a  moment 
his  attitude  of  weariness  changed  to  one  of  eager  attention. 

"  Look  ! "  he  cried  to  CaUias.  "  What  is  that?  "  and  he 
pointed  to  a  boat  that  had  just  rounded  the  nearest  point  to 
the  westward.  It  was  a  fishing  boat,  manned,  apparently, 
by  seven  or  eight  men,  and  making  all  the  speed  it  could 
with  both  oars  and  sails.  The  two  men  hurried  down  to  the 
castle  pier,  and  awaited  the  arrival  of  what  they  were  sure 
was  the  long  expected  message. 

The  boat  was  still  about  two  hundred  yards  away  when 
Alcibiades  recognized  the  steersman. 

"  Ah  ! "  he  cried,  "  it  is  old  Hipparchus."  And  he  waved 
his  hand  with  a  friendly  gesture. 

"  It  is  bad  news  he  brings,"  he  said  again  after  a  quiet 
pause,  "  he  makes  no  reply." 

A  few  more  strokes  brought.the  boat  alongside  of  the  pier. 
Alcibiades  reached  his  hand  to  the  steersman,  and  helped 
him  to  disembarkc  That  his  errand  was  bad  was  only  too 
evident  from  his  look.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and  in  his  eyes 
was  the  expression  of  one  who  had  lately  seen  some  terrible 
sight. 

**  It  is  all  over,"  he  said,  "  Athens  is  lost." 

For  a  few  minutes  the  three  men  stood  silent.  Perhaps  it 
was  then  that  Alcibiades  felt  the  keenest  remorse  of  his  life. 
After  all,  it  was  he  who,  more  than  any  living  man,  had 
brought  this  ruin  to  his  country.    He  had  led  her  into. an 


186  CALL  J  AS. 

enterprise  which  overmatched  her  strength;  and  he  had 
suggested  to  her  enemies  the  too  successful  policy  that  had 
ended  in  her  overthrow.  If  Athens  was  indeed  lost  it  was 
his  doing — and  yet  he  loved  her.  Much  of  this  the  younger 
man  could  guess  at,  for  he  had  not  been  at  Bisanthe  for  now 
nearly  a  year  without  learning  something  of  his  host's  inner 
thoughts.  He  turned  away  his  face  unwiUing  to  witness  the 
emotion  which  he  felt  could  be  seen  in  the  other's  counte- 
nance. The  messenger  from  the  scene  of  the  disaster  stood 
with  downcast  eyes,  absorbed  in  the  dismal  recollection  of 
what  he  had  lately  witnessed. 

"  Tell  us  how  it  happened,"  Said  Alcibiades. 

**  For  five  days,"  so  he  began,  "we  mahned  our  ships 
every  morning  about  the  third  hour,  formed  them  in  line 
of  battle,  and  moved  across  the  strait  to  the  harbor  of 
Lampsacus.  The  Spartan  fleet  was  ranged  in  line  outside 
the  harbor  with  their  army  drawn  up  upon  the  shore  on 
either  side.  Our  admirals  did  not  venture  to  attack;  and  so 
we  sailed  back.  I  noticed  that  a  few  quick-saiUng  galleys 
followed  us  at  about  half  a  naile  distance.  When  we  got 
back  to  our  station,  our  men  used  to  scatter  in  search  of  pro- 
visions for  their  noonday  meal — our  commissariat,  you  must 
know,  was  very  ill-suppUed.  Some  went  up  the  country, 
but  most  made  their  way  to  Sestos.  None  of  our  admirals, 
except  Conon,  seemed  to  have  a  notion  that  this  was  dan- 
gerous, though  some  of  us  old  sailors  could  have  warned 
them  if  we  had  dared.  Conon  always  kept  his  men  to- 
gether. Well,  on  the  fifth  day — our  men,  you  must  under- 
stand, had  been  growing  more  and  more  careless — about  an 
hour  after  we  got  back,  a  shield  was  run  up  to  the  masthead 
of  one  of  the  Spartan  swift-saiUng  galleys.  I  saw  it  flash  in 
the  sunshine;  and  a  few  moments  afterwards  the  whole 
Spartan  fleet  rowed  from  their  anchorage  and  made  their 


CALL  I  AS.  137 

way  across  the  strait.  They  caught  us  entirely  unprepared. 
There  was  no  battle;  scarcely  a  blow  was  struck.  I  can 
easily  believe  that  they  did  not  lose  a  single  man.  Some  of 
our  ships  they  found  absolutely  deserted.  None  of  them 
had  more  than  two-thirds  of  their  complement.  No,  I 
should  not  say  none;  twelve  were  ready,  Conon's  eight  and 
four  others,  one  of  which  was  the  ParaZus*  I  was  on  board 
Menander's  own  ship,  of  which  I  was  steersman.  There 
were  eight  others  with  me.  We  hurried  as  fast  as  we  could 
to  Sestos.  There,  the  next  day,  I  was  able  to  hire  this  boat, 
and  thought  the  best  thing  that  I  could  do  was  to  come  here." 

"  You  say  that  twelve  ships  escaped,"  said  Alcibiades, 
"  how  many  then  were  taken  ?  " 

"  About  a  hundred  and  seventy,"  answered  the  man. 

"  And  how  many  prisoners?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,  but  certainly  several  thousand.  Before 
we  came  away,  a  boat  from  Lampsacus  brought  an  awful 
story  of  what  had  been  done  there.  All  the  Athenian 
prisoners  were  put  to  death,  between  three  and  four  thou- 
sand.   Only  the  admiral  Adeimantus  was  spared." 

"  Ah  !  I  see,"  cried  Alcibiades,  "  he  was  the  traitor." 

•  The  Paralua  was  one  of  the  two  consecrated  ships,  (the  other  being 
the  Salaminla)  which  were  used  for  such  purposes  as  the  conveyance  of 
ambassadorK,  the  carrying  of  offerings  to  shrines,  and,  in  case  of  need, 
theconveyanceof  important  tidings.  They  were  always  manned  with 
picked  crews. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

TO  PHARNABAZUS. 

There  was  little  sleep  that  night  for  the  inhabitants  of 
the  castle  of  Bisanthe.  Everyone  felt  that  the  situation 
was  full  of  peril.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  confidence  which 
everyone  brought  into  contact  with  Alcibiades  felt  in  his 
capacities  of  leadership  there  would  have  been  something 
like  a  panic.  As  it  was,  the  garrison  awaited  with  calmness, 
though  not  without  intense  anxiety,  the  course  of  action 
which  their  commander  would  take  for  himself,  and  recom- 
mend to  them.    They  were  not  kept  long  in  suspense. 

Shortly  after  dawn  the  notes  of  a  trumpet  were  heard 
through  the  castle  giving  thje  well-known  signal  by  which  a 
general  assembly  of  the  garrison  was  called.  A  few  minutes 
sufficed  to  collect  the  men.  The  meeting  was  held  in  the 
central  court  of  the  castle,  and  Alcibiades,  taking  his  stand 
on  the  topmost  step  of  an  outside  staircase  which  led  up  to 
one  of  the  chambers,  addressed  them. 

"  Comrades,"  he  said,  "  you  have  heard  of  the  disaster  by 
which  Athens  has  lost  its  last  fleet.  I  will  blame  no  man  for 
what  happened  or  inquire  whether  it  might  not  have 
been  averted — " 

The  speaker  was  interrupted  by  loud  cries  of  "  Long  live 
Alcibiades,  the  invincible  ! " 

A  flush  of  pleasure  passed  over  the  speaker's  face,  but  he 
made  a  gesture  imperative  of  silence,  and  continued. 


CALLIAS.  13? 

"  The  only  thing  .that  remafns  for  us  is  to  consider  what  it 
is  most  expedient  to  do.  Here,  my  friends,  we  cannot  stay. 
Bisanthe  indeed,  protected  by  its  situation,  its  walls,  and 
stout  hands  and  tried  valor,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  take. 
But,  with  both  sea  and  land  hostile,  with  all  the  country 
and  cities  from  which  we  have  drawn  our  supplies  in  the 
hands  of  the  Spartans,  we  (*annot  long  continue  to  hold  it. 
What  then  shall  we  do  ?  You,  my  friends,  I  can  only  ad- 
vise, for  from  this  day  I  of  necessity  cease  to  command.  Go, 
then,  I  would  say,  to  King  Seuthes,  and  offer  yourselves  to 
him.  He  will  receive  you  kindly.  Brave  men — and  your 
valor  has  been  shown  times  without  number — are  always 
valued  and  honored  by  him,  and  now  that,  for  a  time  at 
least,  the  Spartans  and  their  allies  have  become  supreme  in 
these  parts,  he  will  want  men  more  than  ever.  If  you  re- 
quire it,  you  shall  have  my  good  word;  but  your  reputation 
will  speak  for  you  more  effectually  than  I  can.  My  grati- 
tude to  you,  who  have  served  me  so  well,  I  can  never  ex- 
press. Yet  such  return  as  I  can  make  shall  not  be  left  un- 
done. The  paymaster  will  pay  j'ou  all  arrears  of  pay,  with 
a  donation  of  thrice  as  much  again." 

A  loud  burst  of  applause  followed  this  announcement. 

The  speaker  con tiniued:  "This gift  would  be  many  times 
greater,  if  my  means  were  equal  to  my  sense  of  your  courage 
and  your  services.  From  some  of  you  I  have  a  favor  to 
ask.  It  is  not  expedient  publiely  to  declare  my  plans; 
but  I  may  say  that  I  shall  need  a  few  associates  in  them. 
For  these  I  shall  not  ask  you,  not  because  I  am  doubtful  of 
raising  them,  but  because  I  know  that  you  would  all  offer 
yourselves — " 

A  roar  of  assent  went  up  from  the  whole  assembly. 

"I  have  already  exercised  the  choice  which  in  any  case 
I  should  have  been  compelled  afterwards  to  make.    Twelve 


140  CALLIAS. 

companions — more  I  am  forbidden  by  circumstances  to  take 
— will  go  witli  me.  To  tlierest  I  say,  '  Farewell.'  The  gods 
grant  that  at  some  happier  time  we  may  again  render  our 
service  to  Athens  and  to  Greece.    Till  then,  Farewell ! " 

A  loud  answering  cry  of  farewell  went  up  from  the  men, 
which  was  renewed  again  and  again  as  the  speaker  entered 
the  room  at  the  head  of  the  s'taircase.  Here  the  twelve 
chosen  associates  were  assembled,  Callias  and  Hipparchus, 
the  messenger  from  the  scene  of  the  late  conflict,  making 
up  the  number  to  fourteen.    Alcibiades  addressed  them: 

"  I  have  long  since  anticipated  and  prepared  myself  for 
this  misfortune  which  has  now  overtaken  us,  though  the 
blow  has  fallen  more  suddenly  and  more  heavily  than  I  had 
feared.  To  you,  ray  chosen  friends,  I  reveal  the  counsels 
which  it  would  not  have  been  expedient  to  publish  to  a 
multitude.  Briefly  they  are  these:  Lysander  has  con- 
quered by  the  help  of  the  Persians,  for  had  it  not  been  for  the 
gold  of  Cyrus,  his  fleet  could  never  have  been  kept  togetlier. 
We  also  must  go  to  the  Persians  for  help.  It  is  an  evil  neces- 
sity, I  confess,  that  makes  free-born  Greeks  court  the  favor 
of  their  slaves;  but  a  necessity  it  is.  And  the  time  favors  us 
for  using  it.  Cyrus  covets  the  throne  of  Persia  which  he 
claims  against  his  elder  brother  Artaxerxes  as  having  been 
born  after  his  father's  accession  whereas  Artaxerxes  was 
born  before  it.  As  Lysander,  then,  has  used  Cyrus  against 
us,  so  we  must  use  Artaxerxes  against  Cyrus.  '  How,'  you 
will  ask,  '  is  Artaxerxes  to  be  approached  ? '  Through 
Pliamabazus,  the  Satrap,  with  whom  I  have  a  warm  friend- 
ship of  now  some  years'  standing.  To  Pharnabazus,  there- 
fore, I  now  purpose  to  go.  I  shall  demand  of  him  that 
which  he  will  himself  be  most  willing  to  grant — for  he  is  no 
friend  to  Cyrus — that  he  send  me  up  to  Susa.  This  Them- 
istocles  did  before  me;  but  he,  at  least  in  word,  went  as  the 


CALLIAS.  141 

enemy  of  his  country,  though  indeed  lie  was  unwilling  to 
harm  it.  I  shall  go,  both  in  word  and  in  deed,  as  its  friend. 
And  now  for  other  things.  For  my  most  valuaWe  possessions 
I  have  prepared  hiding-placcH.  Much  I  shall  leave  to  King 
Seuthes,  to  whom  I  sent  a  message  concerning  my  immedi- 
ate departure.  This  morning,  my  friends,  I  would  ask  you 
to  receive  at  my  hands  a  year's  pay.  Do  not  hesitate  to  re- 
ceive it;  I  can  give  it  now,  I  may  not  be  able  so  to  do  a  year 
hence.  We  will  start  this  day  at  sunset.  There  is  no  time 
to  be  lost.  To-morrow,  I  doubt  not,  or  the  next  day  at  the 
latest,  Lysander  will  be  here." 

With  Callias,  after  the  rest  had  departed  to  make  prepa- 
rations for  their  departure,  Alcibiades  had  some  private  con-, 
versation  as  to  the  subject  of  ways  and  means. 

"  You  must  let  me  be  your  banker,"  he  began  by  saying. 

Callias  thanked  him  heartily,  but  declined  to  receive  any- 
thing m.ore  than  would  suffice  for  immediate  needs. 

"  You  may  as  well  take  it,"  returned  his  host,  "  there  is  a 
good  deal  more  here  than '  I  can  take  with  me;  and  why 
should  you  not  ?  For  myself,  I  carry  most  of  my  possessions 
about  with  me  in  this  fashion," — and  he  showed  a  leather 
purse  filled  with  pearls  and  precious  stones.  "Gold  is 
too  cumbrous  to  carry  in  any  quantity.  This  no  man  will 
take  as  long  as  I  am  alive.  Besides  this,  my  worthy  friend 
Hippocles,  who,  as  you  know,  is  as  trustworthy  as  the  treas- 
ury of  Delphi,  has  most  of  my  property  in  his  hands.  And, 
if  we  once  get  safely  to  Pharnabazus,  we  need  not  trouble 
any  more  about  this  matter.  I  must  do  the  Persians  the  jus- 
tice to  say  that  they  are  always  oi^en-handed.  And  they  can' 
afford  to  be.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  for  one  talent 
of  gold  that  we  have  in  Greece  they  have  at  least  a  hundred. 
Anyone  who  should  have  the  ransacking  of  one  of  their 
great  treasure  cities — and  they  have  others  besides  Susa; 


142  CALLIAS. 

Babylon,  for  instance,  and  Persepolis  and  Pasargadse — ^would 
see  something  that  would  astonish  them.  And,"  he  added, 
with  a  profound  sigh — "  if  only  things  had  gone  straight,  I 
might  have  been  the  man." 

The  journey  along  the  northern  shore  of  the  Propontis 
was  accomplished  ~in  safety.  No  Spartan  ship  had  as  yet 
made  its  way  so  far  eastward.  At  a  little  town  on  the 
Asiatic  shore  Alcibiades  provided  his  party  with  horses  for 
riding  and  serviceable  mules  for  the  conveyance  of  their 
baggage  and  of  such  a  selection  of  his  own  possessions  as 
he  had  thought  it  well  to  take  with  him.  The  old  sailor 
Hipparchus  here  wanted  to  leave  them,  and  to  make  his 
way  to  Byzantium,  where  he  had  relatives.  The  remainder 
Alcibiades  addressed  before  setting  out,  to  the  following 
effect : 

"  We  have  to  make  our  way  to  Gordiima  in  Phrygia,  for  it 
is  there  that,  if  he  keeps  to  his  usual  habits,  we  shall  find  the 
Satrap  Pharnabazus.  He  is  accustomed  to  winter  there. 
But  we  shall  not  find  it  easy  to  get  there.  These  Bithyn- 
ians  are  not  eflfeminate  Asiatics, 'a  hundred  of  whom  will  fly 
before  five  stout  Greeks.  They  are  Thracians  from  the 
other  side  of  the  sea,  and  we  all  know  how  hard  are  their 
heads,  and  how  strong  their  arms.  We  cannot  force  our 
way  through  them;  we  must  elude  them  if  we  can." 

The  route  which  the  party  followed  lay  for  some  time 
within  sight  of  the  sea.  This  was  commonly  followed  by 
travellers,  as  the  mountaineers  seldom  ventured  within  the 
border  of  the  maritime  plain.  When  they  had  reached  the 
head  of  the  Gulf  of  Olbia  they  struck  inland.  The  road 
usually  followed  would  have  taken  them  by  the  valley  of 
Sangarius,  a  river  which  divides  the  great  chain  of  the 
Mysian  Olympus.  Their  guide  strongly  dissuaded  them 
from  taking  it.     It  was  constantly  watched,   he  said,  by 


CALLIAS.  143 

the  mountaineers.  No  on§  could  hope  to  escape  them,  and 
only  a  very  strong  party  could  force  its  way  through.  .  The 
safest  plan  would  be  by  certain  paths  which  he  knew,  and 
by  which  they  might  hope  to  cross  OljTnpus  unmolested. 
Only  hunters  and  shepherds  know  them,  or  a  chance  trav- 
eller on  foot  for  whom  it  would  not  be  worth  the  robbers' 
while  to  wait.  It  was  a  toilsome  and  even  dangerous  journey. 
The  first  snows  bf  autumn  had  begun  to  fall,  and  even  the 
practical  eye  of  the  guide  found  it  difficult  to  discover  thie 
{)ath,  while  the  sufferings  of  the  travellers,  who  had  to 
bivouac  for  several  nights  in  the  open  air,  with  but  scanty 
fire  to  warm  them,  were  exceedingly  severe.  Still,  but  for 
one  unlucky  incident,  it  would  have  been  accomplished  in 
safety.  The  party  was  now  half-way  down  the  southern 
slopes  of  Olympus  when  they  halted  for  the  night  at  a  road- 
side inn,  or  rather  caravansary'.  They  found  the  large  re- 
ception chamber — it  contained  two  only — ^already  occupied 
by  a  party  of  the  vagrant  priests  of  Cybele.  "While  Alcibia- 
des  and  Callias  found  accommodation,  such  as  it  was,  in  the 
smaller  room,  the  rest  of  the  pjarty  were  thrown  upon  the 
hospitaUty  of  the  priests,  unless  indeed,  they  chose  to 
bivouac  outside.  Unluckily,  the  priests  were  only  too  hos- 
pitable. They  invited  the  newcomers  to  an  entertainment 
which  was  prolonged  into  a  revel.  During  the  passage  of 
the  mountains  the  allowances  of  food  had  been  small,  and 
for  drink  the  party  had  had  jx;rforce  to  be  satisfied  with 
the  wayside  springs  or  even  with  melted  snow.  When 
they  found  themselves  under  shelter,  in  a  room  which  was 
at  least  weather-tight,  and  warmed  with  a  blazing  fire, 
the  sense  of  contrast  tended  to  relax  their  powers  of  self- 
restraint.  The  priests  had  roasted  a  couple  of  sheep,  and 
broached  a  cask  of  the  heady  wine  of  Mount  Tmolus,  with 
which  a  wealthy  devotee  had  presented  them.    This  they 


144  CALLIAS. 

drank,  and  insisted  on  their  guests  drinking,  unmixed.  By 
the  time  the  mutton  bones  had  been  picked  bare,  and  the 
cask  drained  to  its  dregs,  not  a  man  out  of  the  twelve  was 
sober.  A  heavy  slmnber,  lasting  late  into  the  morning, was 
the  natural  consequence  of  this  debauch,  and  when  the 
sleepers  were  at  last  aroused,  they  set  about  the  preparation 
for  a  start  in  a  very  languid  fashion.  It  was  nearly  noon  be- 
fore the  party  was  fairly  on  its  way.  Darkness  came  on  be- 
fore the  next  stage  could  be  reached.  It  was  while  the 
travellers  were  bivouacking  in  a  wholly  unprotected  situation 
that  a  company  of  marauders,  who  had  indeed  been  watch- 
ing their  movements  for  some  days  in  the  hopes  of  finding 
such  an  opportunity,  fell  upon  them.  Tlie  result  was  disas- 
trous. Alcibiades  and  Callias,  who  had  been  sleeping  with 
thrfr  horses  picketed  close  to  their  camp  fire,  were  roused  by 
the  noise,  and  springing  to  their  saddles  made  their  escape. 
Not  one  of  their  followers  was  equally  fortunate.  Some 
were  cut  down  in  their  sleep,  others  as  they  were  endeavor- 
ing to  collect  their  senses.  The  sumpter-horses  and  their 
burdens  of  course  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  assailants.  It 
was  only  with  what  they  carried  on  their  own  persons  that 
the  two  survivors  of  the  party  made  their  way  about  six 
days  afterwards  to  the  Satrap's  winter  palace  at  Gordium. 


I 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

ATHENS  IN  THE  DUST. 

"  I  FEEL  that  my  place  is  at  Athens,"  said  Callias  to  liis 
tiost  a  few  days  after  tiieir  arrivaL 

"  In  spite  of  the  past  ?  " 

'*  Yes.  At  such  a  time  n<»  one  thinks  of  the  past,  but  only 
of  the  future." 

"  Well;  I  cannot  say  that  you  are  wrong.  If  yon  think 
fit  to  go,  I  shall  not  seek  to  hold  you  back.  I  must  frankly 
say  that  I  see  little  hope." 

"And  you  ? ' '  Callias  went  on  after  a  pause.  *'  What  shall 
you  do,  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  to  ask? " 

"  If  I  can  save  my  country  at  all,  it  will  be  here.  The 
only  hope  now  is  to  detach  Persia  from  Sparta.  Perhaps 
now  that  Athens  has  fallen  so  low,  the  Persians  will  see 
what  their  true  interests  are.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  there  is 
no  real  ruler,no  one  to  carrj'  out  a  consistent  policy.  The 
Great  King  is  absolute  at  the  capital,  but  in  the  provinces  he 
is  little  more  than  a  name.  Tlie  satraps  do  almost  as  they 
please;  they  actually  make  war  on  each  other  if  it  suits  their 
purpose.  So,  it  is  not  what  is  best  for  Persia,  but  what  Tis- 
saphernes  or  Pharnabazus  may  think  l)est  for  himself  that 
will  be  done.  Still  there  is  a  chance  left;  only  I  must  be  on 
the  spot  to  seize  it  If  it  comes.  Were  I  to  go  to  Athens,  I 
should  be  only  one  man  among  a  useless  crowd,  and  you, 
my  young  friend,  will,  I  very  much  fear,  l>e  little  more." 


146  CALLIAS. 

•'Anyhow  I  shall  go,"  replied  the  young  man,  "at  all 
events  there  will  be  one  sword  more  to  be  drawn  for 
Athens." 

"Yes,"  muttered  Aleibiades  to  himself,  as  his  companion 
left  the  room,  "  if  you  get  the  chance  of  drawing  it.  I 
rather  think  that  with  that  fox  Lysander  in  command, 
you  will  do  nothing  more  for  Athens  than  bring  one  more 
mouth  to  be  fed." 

Callias  made  his  way  to  the  coast  with  no  difficulty.  As- 
suming, at  the  suggestion  of  Aleibiades,  a  citizen's  dress,  he 
joined  a  caravan  of  traders  which  was  on  its  way  westward, 
and  in  their  company  travelled  pleasantly  and  safely.  Ar- 
rived at  Miletus  he  took  passage  in  a  merchant  ship  that 
was  bound  for  .^gina,  hoping  if  he  coxild  only  get  so  far,  to 
be  able  to  make  his  way  somehow  into  the  city.  At  one 
time,  indeed,  he  was  terribly  afraid  that  this  hope  would  be 
disappointed.  The  Swallow — this  was  the  name  of  the  ves- 
sel of  JEgina — ^was  challenged  and  overhauled  by  a  Corin- 
thian ship  of  war.  Callias  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his 
nationality.  Indeed  it  would  have  been  useless,  for  an 
Athenian  in  those  days  was  about  as  easily  recognized  over 
the  whole  of  the  Greek  world  as  an  Englishman  is  recog- 
nized in  these,  anywhere  in  il^urope.  To  his  great  surprise 
the  Corinthian  captain  simply  said:  "You  can  go;  I  have 
no  order  to  detain  you."  That  there  was  no  kindness  in 
his  permission  Callias  was  perfectly  well  aware,  for  the 
hatred  of  Corinth  for  Athens  was  tenfold  more  bitter  than 
that  of  Sparta. 

It  was  a  quarrel  between  Athens  and  Corinth,  on  the 
tender  point  of  a  rebelUous  Corinthian  colony,  that  had  been 
the  immediate  cause  of  the  Peloponnesian  War;  and  even 
before  this  there  had  always  been  the  potent  influence  of 
commercial  rivalry  to  set  the  two  states  against  each  other. 


CALLIAS.  147 

The  young  Athenian  noticed  also  a  sinister  smile  on  the  cap- 
tain's face;  but  what  it  meant  he  was  at  a  loss  to  determine. 

Landed  at  ^gina  he  lost  no  time  iu  enquiring  how  he 
might  best  reach  his  destination. 

"Oh!  you  will  get  in  easily  enough,"  said  the  ^ginetan 
merchant,  the  owner  of  the  Swallow,  to  whom  he  stated 
his  case. 

"  Is  not  the  city  blockaded  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  a  way,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Please  to  explain  what  you  mean,"  said  Callias,  who 
was  getting  a  little  heated  by  these  mysterious  remarks. 

"  Well,"  said  the  merchant,  "  King  Pausanias  is  encamp- 
ed outside  the  city  in  some  place  that  they  call  the  Grove  of 
Academus,  I  think.    Do  you  know  it  ?" 

CaUias  assented  with  a  nod. 

"  And  Lysander  has  a  hundred  and  fifty  ships  off  the 
Piraeus.  Still  I  think  that  you  will  be  able  to  get  in.  The 
blockade  is  not  kept  very  strictly." 

"  Had  I  best  go  by  night  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better." 

"  Can  you  help  me  to  a  boat  ?  " 

"  Certainly;  but  you  will  have  to  pay  the  boatman  pretty 
highly,  for,  of  course,  it  is  a  risk,  though  it  can  be  done. 

"  Will  you  make  the  arrangements  if  I  pay  you  the  money 
in  advance?" 

"  Certainly,  if  you  do  not  mind  going  so  far  as  amina.  It 
is  really  worth  the  money." 

CaUias  paid  the  money,  and  was  told  to  be  in  readiness  to 
embark  at  midnight. 

It  would  have  enlightened  him  considerably  if  he  could 
have  seen  the  merchant's  behavior  as  soon  as  he  was  safely 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Ah,  you  young  serpent,"  the  man  cried,  "  you  will  be  al- 


148  (JALLIAS, 

lowed  to  creep  into  your  hole  easily  enough;  but  if  we  don't 
sufTocate  you  and  your  whole  brood  when  we  have  got  you 
there,  ray  name  is  not  Timagenes." 

The  fact  was  that  a  revolution  of  which  Callias  knew 
nothing  had  taken  place  at  JEgina.  An  old  rival  and  enemy 
of  Athens,  the  city  had  been  conquered  many  years  before, 
and  the  anti- Athenian  party  expelled.  And  now  every- 
thing was  changed.  Lysander  had  brought  back  the  ex- 
iles, and  though  Athens  had  still  friends,  it  was  the  hostile 
party  that  was  in  power.  Callias  had  observed  a  certain 
change  in  the  demeanor  of  the  people,  but  was  too  much 
engrossed  in  his  own  affairs  to  think  much  about  it. 

The  blockade  was  run  as  easily  as  the  ^ginetan  had  fore- 
told. The  boat  passed  within  fifty  yards  of  one  of  the 
squadron,  and  Callias  could  have  sworn  that  he  saw  a 
sentinel  on  the  watch  pacing  the  vessel's  deck.  But  the 
man  did  not  challenge,  and  the  Piraeus  was  reached  with- 
out any  difficulty. 

It  was  not  long  before  all  the  mystery  was  explained. 

"This  is  just  what  I  feared,"  said  Hippocles,  to  whose 
house  the  young  Athenian  hastened.  "I  knew  that  you 
would  come  back,  and  I  could  not  warn  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  cried  the  young  man  in  astonish- 
ment.    "  Was  it  not  my  duty  to  return  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  one  way  it  was.  But  tell  me  how  you  got  here  ?" 

Callias  related  the  incidents  of  his  journey,  and  expressed 
some  surprise  that  the  Corinthian  captain  had  not  taken 
him  prisoner,  and  that  the  blockade  was  so  negligently 
kept. 

"  And  you  did  not  understand  what  all  this  meant?  " 

"No;  I  understood  nothing." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  merchant,   "  it  simply  means 


CA  LLIAS,  149 

that  Lysauder  is  going  to  starve  us  out,  and  that  the  more 
there  are  of  us  tlie  easier  and  the  speedier  his  Avork  will  be. 
This  has  been  his  policy  all  along.  He  has  taken  no  prison- 
ers. Whenever  he  has  taken  a  city,  and  there  is  hardly  one 
that  has  not  either  been  taken  or  given  itself  up,  he  has  sent 
every  Athenian  citizen  home.  They  are  simply  put 
on  their  parole  to  come  here.  The  consequence  is  that  the 
city  is  fairly  swarming  with  people,  and  that  there  is  next 
to  no  food.  I  have  a  good  store — for  some  time  past  I  have 
kept  myself  well  provisioned,  not  knowing  what  might 
happen — and  I  am  able  to  do  something  for  my  poor  neigh- 
lK)rs.  But  the  state  of  things  in  the  city  is  simply  awful. 
People,  and  people  too  whom  I  know  as  really  well-to-do 
citizens,  are  dying  of  sheer  starvation.  As  for  the  poor 
women  and  children  it  is  truly  heart  breaking.  Oh,  my 
dear  friend,  if  you  had  only  stopped  away  ;  for  here  you  can 
do  nothing.  But  I  knew  you  would  come  back,  and  I  honor 
you  for  it." 

"  But  can  nothing  be  done?  "  cried  the  young  man.  "  It 
is  better  to  die  than  be  starved  like  a  wolf  in  his  den." 

"The  people  have  lost  all  heart.  And  indeed,  if  they 
were  all  brave  as  lions,  we  are  hopelessly  outnumbered. 
Pausanias  must  have  as  many  as  forty  thousand  men  out- 
side the  city,  for  every  city  in  the  Island*  except  Argoe, 
lias  sent  its  contingent;  and  we  could  not  muster  a  fourth 
l)art  of  the  number,  and  such  troops  too  !  And  where  is 
our  fleet?  At  the  bottom  of  tl»e  JEgean,  or  in  the  arsenals 
of  the  enemy.  I  do  not  suppose  that  there  are  fifty  ships, 
Jill  told,  in  our  docks.  And  of  these  a  third  are  not  sea- 
worthy. No,  we  must  submit;  and  yet  it  is  almost  as  much 
as  a  man's  life  is  worth  to  mention  the  word." 

"  But  could  we  not  make  terms  of  some  kind,  not  good 
•  The  Peloponnesus  or  Island  of  Pelops. 


160  GALLIAS. 

terms  I  fear,  but  still  such  as  would  be  endurable  ?   Has 
anything  been  done  ?  " 

"  The  Senate  sent  to  Agis,  who  was  at  Deceleia,t  and,  pro- 
posed peace  on  these  terras:  Athens  was  to  become  the  ally 
of  Sparta  on  the  condition  of  having  the  same  friends  and  the 
same  enemies,  but  was  to  be  allowed  to  keep  the  Long 
Walls  X  and  the  Piraeus.  Agis  said  that  he  had  no  authority 
to  treat,  and  bade  the  envoys  go  to  Sparta.  So  they  came 
back  here,  and  were  directed  to  go.  They  reached  a  place 
on  the  borders  of  Laconia  and  sent  on  their  message  to  the 
Ephors  at  Sparta,  not  being  allowed  to  proceed  any  further 
themselves.  TheJEphors  sent  back  this  answer  :  '  Begone 
instantly;  if  the  Athenians  really  desire  peace,  let  them 
send  you  again  with  other  proposals,  such  as  having  re- 
flected more  wisely  they  may  be  disposed  to  make.'  So 
the  envoys  returned.  Some  had  hoped  that  they  would  do 
some  good.  I  must  confess  that  I  had  not.  There  was 
terrible  dispaay.  At  last  one  Archestratus  plucked  up 
courage  to  speak.  *  The  Lacedaemonians  can  force  us  to 
accept  what  conditions  they  please.  Let  us  acknowledge 
what  we  cannot  deny,  and  make  peace  with  them  on  their 
own  terms.'  There  was  a  howl  of  rage  at  this,  for  in  truth 
the  Lacedaemonian  terms  were  nothing  less  than  this  : 
'  Pull  down  a  mile  of  the  Long  "Walls,  and  give  up  your 
fleet.'  The  unlucky  Archestratus  was  thrown  into  prison 
where  he  lies  still.  Well,  one  said  one  tiling,  one  another. 
At  last  Theramenes  got  up  and  said :  *  The  real  manager  of 
affairs  Is  neither  Agis  nor  Pausanias,  nor  even  the  Ephors, 
but  Lysander.  Send  me  to  him — he  is  a  personal  friend  of 
mine  own — and  I  will  make  the  best  terms  I  can  with  him.' 

t  Deceleia  was  the  fort  established  in  Athenian  territory  by  the 
Peloponnesians  early  in  the  war  and  used  as  their  headquarters  during 
their  annual  invasion  of  the  country. 

X  The  Long  Walls  were  the  great  strength  of  Athens.  They  Joined 
the  harbor  of  the   Piraeus  to  the  city. 


CALLIAS.  151 

To  this  the  assembly  agreed,  having  indeed  nothing  better 
to  do.  That  was  three  or  four  days  ago.  Theramenes 
started  the  same  night.  I  very  much  doubt  whether 
he  will  be  able  to  do  any  good.  I  am  not  even  sure  that  he 
means  to.    But  we  shall  see." 

A  miserable  period  of  waiting  followed.  Day  after  day 
passed,  and  the  envoy  neither  returned  nor  sent  any  com- 
munication to  his  fellow  countrymen.  No  one  knew  where 
he  was.  Whether  he  was  still  with  Lysander  or  had  gone 
on  to  Sparta — all  was  a  mystery.  Meanwhile  the  distress  in 
the  city  grew  more  and  more  acute.  Callias  had  taken  up 
his  abode  with  Hippocles,  and  was  so  out  of  absolute  want. 
He  was  perfectly  ready  to  acquiesce  in  the  extreme  frugality 
which  was  the  rule  of  the  house.  Free  and  bond  all  fared 
alike,  and  none  had  anything  beyond  the  most  absolute 
necessaries  of  life.  Whatever  could  be  spared  was  devoted 
to  the  relief  of  the  needy. 

Kot  the  least  trying  part  of  the  situation  was  the  forced 
inaction.  Not  even  a  sally  was  made.  Indeed,  it  would 
have  been  a  useless  waste  of  life.  Not  only  were  the  forces 
of  the  enemy  vastly  superior,  but  the  besieged  soldiers  were 
almost  unable  to  support  the  weight  of  their  arms,  so  scanty 
was  the  fare  to  which  they  were  reduced.  There  were 
times  when  Callias  was  disposed  to  rush  sword  in  hand  on 
some  outpost  of  the  enemy,  sell  liisiife  as  dearly  as  he  could, 
and  perish. 

Two  things  held  him  back  from  carrying  this  idea  into 
execution,  things  curiously  unlike,  yet  working  together 
for  the  same  result.  One  was  his  love  for  Hermione.  Life 
had  not  lost  all  its  charm,  his  horizon  was  not  wholly  dark, 
while  there  remained  the  light  of  this  hoi>e.  Indeed  it  was 
the  one  consolation  of  his  life  that  he  was  permitted  to  help 
her  in  her  daily  ministration  among  her  needy  neighbors. 


152  CALLJA8. 

A  string  of  pensioners  presented  themselves  at  the 
merchant's  gates,  and  received  such  relief  aa  he  could  give. 
But  Hermione  was  not  content  with  this.  There  were  some, 
she  knew,  whose  pride  would  not  permit  them  to  mingle  in 
the  train  of  mendicants;  there  were  others  whose  strength 
did  not  permit  them  to  come  abroad.  These  she  sought  out 
in  their  own  homes.  CaUias  found  a  melancholy  pleasure 
in  accompanying  and  helping  her.  Not  a  word  of  love 
passed  his  lips.  He  would  have  scorned  himself  if  he  had 
added  the  smallest  grain  to  the  burden  of  care  that  she  bore. 
But  he  never  failed  in  his  attendance,  and  he  was  hailed  by 
many  a  poor  sufferer  with  a  pleasure  only  second  to  that 
-which  greeted  the  gracious  presence  of  the  girl.  When,  as 
happened  before  long,  fever,  the  unfailing  follower  of 
&inine,  began  to  spread  its  ravages  over  the  Piraeus,  his 
labors  and  hers  grew  more  arduous.  Battling  with  these 
two  fearful  enemies  within  the  walls,  Callias  almost  forgot 
the  foes  that  were  without. 

The  other  restraining  and  strengthening  influence  was 
that  which  Socrates  exercised  on  the  young  man's  mind. 
All  the  time  that  Callias  could  spare  from  the  labors  that  he 
shared  with  Hermione  was  given  to  the  society  of  the  phil- 
osopher. The  sage's  indomitable  courage  and  endurance 
were  in  themselves  an  encouragement  of  the  highest  order. 
Doubtless  his  physical  strength,  which  made  him  capable  of 
bearing  an  almost  incredible  degree  of  cold  and  hunger, 
helped  liim  to  show  a  dauntless  heart  to  the  troubles  which 
were  breaking  down  so  many.  Indeed  he  seenaed  scarcely 
to  want  food  or  drink.  But  the  steadfastness  with 
which  he  pursued  his  usual  course  of  life,  still  keeping  up 
his  tmtiring  search  for  wisdom,wa3  a  spectacle  nothing  less 
than  splendid,  while  nothing  could  exceed  his  practical  sa- 
gacity.   Anyone  who  wanted  shrewd  advice  in  the  actual 


CALL  I  Am.  153 

circumstances  of  life,  anyone  who  desired  to  be  lifted  out  of 
the  sordid  present,  with  its  miserable  hopes  and  cares,  on  to 
a  liigher  plane  of  life,  came  to  Socrates  and  did  not  come  in 
vain. 

At  length,  when  nearly  three  months  had  passed,  the 
long  period  of  suspense  seemed  about  to  come  to  an  end. 
The  report  ran  through  the  city  that  Theramenes  had  re- 
turned. What  were  the  terms  he  had  brought  back,  no  one 
knew.  On  that  point  he  remained  obstinately  silent.  In 
feet  he  had  nothing  to  say,  nothing  further,  that  is,  than 
the  fact  that  Lysander  professed  himself  unable  to  treat ; 
the  Ephors  must  be  approached,  if  anything  was  to  be 
done. 

Had  Lysander  amused  him  with  hopes  that  Instructions 
and  power  to  treat  would  soon  be  sent  down  to  him  from 
Sparta,  or  had  he  deliberately  waited  till  the  city  should 
be  reduced  to  such  a  pitch  of  starvation  that  it  would  be 
ready  to  consent  to  any  terms  ?  There  was  a  brutal,  cold- 
blooded cruelty  in  such  conduct  that  makes  it  difficult  to 
credit;  yet  many  believed  it  to  be  the  true  explanation  of 
the  delay.*  To  picture  the  dismay  that  prevailed  through 
the  assembly  when  Theramenes  had  given  his  report  of  the 
negotiations  which  he  had  not  concluded  would  be  impossi- 
ble. There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  accept  the  bitter  ne- 
cessity. Theramenes,  with  nine  others,  was  sent  to  Sparta 
with  full  power  to  treat.  They  were  to  accept  any  terms 
that  might  be  offered.  The  proud  city  had  fallen  as  low  as 
that 

Then  came  another  time  of  waiting.  Happily  it  was  not 
long.  Theramenes  felt  that  the  endurance  of  his  country- 
men had  been  tried  to  the  uttermost,  and  that  nothing  more 

•  Xenophon  distinctly  says  that  he  lingered  with  Lysander,  waltine 
for  the  time  when  the  Athenians,  at  the  last  pinch  of  starvation,  should 
be  ready  to  accept  any  terms  that  might  be  offered. 


164  CALLIAS. 

was  to  be  gained,  Athens  was  on  her  knees.  It  did  not 
suit  him  and  his  purposes — for  he  had  purposes  of  his  own, 
possibly  a  tyranny,  certainly  power — ^that  she  should  be 
actually  prostrate.  He  and  his  colleagues  made  all  the 
haste  that  they  could;  and  as  their  instructions  were 
simple — to  accept  anything  that  might  be  off'ered — there 
was  little  to  delay  them. 

At  the  end  of  about  twelve  days  they  returned.  It  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  breathless  suspense  that  Theramenes  stood 
up  to  make  his  report.  What  he  said  may  be  thus  given  in 
outUne. 

"  We  went  with  all  speed  to  Sellasia  *  and  there  waited, 
having  sent  on  a  message  to  the  Ephors  that  we  had  come 
with  full  power  to  treat.  On  the  second  day  we  were  sum- 
moned to  Sparta.  There  we  found  envoys  assembled  from 
the  alUes  of  the  Lacedaemonians.  Aristides  also  was  there." 
At  the  mention  of  the  name  of  Aristides  a  murmur  of  fear 
and  rage  ran  through  the  assembly.  The  man  was  one  of 
the  most  notorious  of  the  anti-patriotic  party.  He  had 
been  in  exile  for  many  years,  and  was  beUeved  to  have  done 
more  harm  than  anyone  else  to  his  native  city. 

"  The  senior  of  the  Ephors  stood  up,  and  said  : '  Friends 

and  allies,  the  Athenians  seek  for  peace.    What  say  you  ? 

Shall  we  grant  it  to  them? '    One  after  another  the  envoys 

rose  in  their  places.    They  did  not  use  many  words.    It  was 

not  the  custom  of  the  place  to  be  long  in  speech  as  they 

knew.    All  said  the  same  thing.     '  We  give  our  vote  against 

peace.    Let  Athens  be  destroyed.    There  wiU  be  no  true 

peace  so  long  as  she  is  permitted  to  exist.'    When  all  had 

spoken  we  were  called  on  to  speak.      '  You  hear  what  these 

say,' said  the  Ephor  who  had  not   spoken  before.     'What 

*  Sellasia  was  a  town  on  the  border  where  the  previous  embassy  had 
been  bidden  to  wait  till  the  Ephors  could  be  communicated  with. 


CALLIAS.  M6 

have  you  to  reply  ?  *  I  answered  that  the  Athenians  were 
ready  to  give  all  pledges  that  might  be  asked  from  them 
that  they  would  not  harm  either  Sparta  or  her  allies 
or  any  city  of  the  Greeks.  After  this  we  were  all  com- 
manded to  withdraw.  In  about  the  space  of  an  hour  we 
were  summoned  again  into  the  chamber.  The  Ephor  rose 
in  his  place  and  spoke.  '  The  Corinthians  and  the  other 
allies  demand  that  Athens  shall  be  destroyed.  Nor  do 
they  this  without  reason.  The  Athenians  have  destroyed 
many  cities  of  the  Greeks.  Yet  can  we  not  forget  that  they 
have  also  in  time  past  done  good  service  to  Greece.  But  of 
these  things  which  you  all  know  it  is  needless  to  speak.  Our 
sentence  is  this :  Let  the  Athenians  pull  down  their  Long 
Walls  for  the  space  of  a  mile.  Let  them  also  surrender 
their  fleet,  keeping  only  twelve  ships.  On  these  terms  they 
shall  have  peace.  These  then,  O  men  of  Athens,'  the  speak- 
er continued,  *  are  the  conditions  which  the  Spartans  de- 
mand. I  confess  that  they  are  hard.  Yet  ihey  are  better 
than  those  which  the  rest  of  Greece  would  impose  upon  you.' 
Truly  the  Lacedaemonians  stand  between  us  and  utter  de- 
struction. And  there  is  nothing  beyond  remedy  in  whd,t 
they  would  lay  upon  us.  Walls  that  are  broken  down  may 
be  repaired,  and  for  ships  that  have  been  given  up  niany 
others  may  be  built;  but  of  a  city  against  which  the  decree 
of  destruction  has  gone  forth,  there  is  an  end.  Therefore  I 
propose  that  peace  be  made  with  the  Lacedaemonians  on 
these  terms," 

One  or  two  speakers  ventured  to  rise  in  opposition.  But 
they  could  scarcely  get  a  hearing.  Probably  they  only 
went  through  the  form  of  opposing  in  order  that  they  might 
be  able  at  some  future  time  to  say  that  they  had  done  so. 
With  but  short  delay  the  proposition  was  put  to  the  vote 
and  carried  by  an  overwhelming  majority.  The  same  even- 


156  CALLIA8. 

ing  envoys  were  sent  to  Lysander  announcing  that  the 
Spartan  conditions  had  been  accepted. 

The  next  day  the  gates  of  the  city  were  thrown  open,  and 
the  fleet  of  Lysander  sailed  into  the  Piraeus.  The  ships  of 
war  were  handed  over  to  him.  Many  were  destroyed,  and 
indeed  the  once  famous  and  powerful  fleet  of  Attica  had 
been  reduced  to  a  state  of  most  deplorable  weakness.  The 
sacrifice  of  .the  fleet,  such  as  it  was,  was  not  so  very  costly 
after  all.  The  few  sea-worthy  ships  that  remained,  besides 
the  twelve  that  the  city  was  permitted  to  retain,  were  sent  off 
to  the  Lacedaemonian  arsenal  of  Gytheum.  This  done, 
the  next  thing  was  to  beat  down  the  Long  Walls.  "This 
is  the  first  day  of  the  freedom,  of  Greece,"  said  Lysander, 
"we  must  keep  it  as  a  festival.  Send  for  the  flute  players." 
Accordingly  the  services  of  every  flute  player  in  Attica 
were  requisitioned ;  and  to  the  sound  of  the  gayest  tunes 
which  they  could  find  in  their  repertoire  the  work  of  dem- 
olition went  on.  Every  decent  Athenian  whatever  his 
policy,  kept,  of  course,  close  within  doors ;  but  there  was 
nevertheless  a  vast  concourse  of  spectators,  the  rabble  who 
will  crowd  to  any  sight,  however  brutal  and  humiliating, 
the  army  of  Pausanias  and  the  crews  of  Lysander's  fleet, 
with  a  miscellaneous  crowd  of  foreigners  who  had  come  to 
gloat  over  the  downfall  of  the  haughty  city.  Loud  was  the 
shout  that  went  up  when  a  clean  breach  was  made  through 
the  walls.  The  general  feeling  was  that  Athens  had  suf- 
fered a  blow  from  which  she  could  never  recover.  But 
there  were  some  who  doubted.  "You  have  scotched  the 
snake,  not  killed  it,"  said  a  Corinthian,  as  he  turned  away. 


CHAPTER  xnn. 

"noblesse  oblige." 
Some  fourteen  or  fifteen  days  have  passed  since  the  hu- 
miliation of  Athens  was  completed.  To  fiave  come  to  the 
end,  bitter  as  it  was,  was  in  one  way  a  relief.  To  know  the 
worst  always  brings  a  certain  comfort,  and  that  worst 
might  have  been,  was.  In  fact,  very  near  being  far  more 
terrible  than  what  actually  happened.  Then  there  was  a 
great  material  relief.  The  pressure  of  famine  was  removed. 
Supplies  poured  plentifully  into  Athens,  for  the  city,  in  spite 
of  all  Its  sacrifices  and  losses,  was  still  rich.  If  fever  still 
remained — it  always  lingers  a  while  after  its  precursor, 
hunger,  has  departed— it  was  now  possible  to  cope  with  it 
effectually.  And  then,  last  not  least,  it  was  the  delightful 
season  of  spring.  The  Athenians  could  once  more  enjoy  the 
deUghts  of  that  country  life  from  which  they  had  been  shut 
out  so  long,  but  which  they  had  never  ceased  to  love. 
Attica,  indeed,  had  suffered  sadly  from  the  presence,  repeated 
year  after  year,  of  the  invading  host;  but  it  had  suff"ored 
less  than  might  have  been  expected.  The  olive  yards  in  par- 
ticular, had  not  been  touched.  A  religious  feeling  liad  forbid- 
den any  injury  to  a  tree  which  was  supposed  to  be  under  the 
special  protection  of  the  patron  goddess  of  the  land.  The 
sacred  groves  also  of  the  heroes,  that  were  scattered  about 
the  country,  liad  not  been  harmed.  Not  a  few  houses  with 
i  heir  gardens  liad  been  saved  by  having  ser\'ed  as  residences 


168  CALL!  AS'. 

for  officers  high  in  command,  in  the  Peloponnesian  army. 
And  now  Nature,  the  restorer,  was  busy  in  the  genial  sea- 
son of  growth  in  healing  or  at  least  hiding  the  wounds  that 
had  been  made  by  the  ravages  of  war. 

"What  do  you  say  to  a  trip  to  Marathon?  "  said  Hippo- 
cles  one  day,  to  his  daughter  and  Callias.  "You  both  of 
you  look  as  if  a  little  fresh  air  would  do  you  good." 

"  An  excellent  idea,"  cried  Hermione,  clapping  her  hands, 
"  it  is  years  since  I  have  seen  the  place." 

"  What  say  you,  Callias?  "  said  Hippocles,  turning  to  the 
young  man. 

Callias  was  only  too  glad  to  join  any  expedition  when  he 
was  to  have  the  company  of  Hermione.  He  did  not  give 
this  reason,  but  he  assented  to  the  proposal  very  heartily. 

' '  But,  father,  how  shall  we  go  ?  "  said  Hermione.  ' '  There 
is  scarcely  a  hoi-se  to  be  found,  I  suppose." 

"  Why  not  go  by  sea  ?  "  was  her  father's  reply.  "  I  have 
a  pinnace  which  would  just  suit  us.  We  will  go  to-morrow 
if  the  weather  holds  fine,  stop  the  first  night  at  Sunium, 
and  the  second  at  Marathon.  At  Sunium  there  is  my  villa, 
and  at  Marathon  there  is  a  little  house  of  which  I  can  get 
the  use,  and  which  will  serve  us  if  we  do  not  mind  roughing 
it  a  little.  We  can  return  the  next  day.  Only  we  must 
take  provisions,  for  except  such  fish  as  we  may  catch  in  the 
Marathon  stream,  and  possibly  some  goats'  milk,  if 
all  the  goats  have  not  been  eaten  up,  we  shall  have 
nothing  but  what  we  bring.  That  must  be  your  care, 
Hermione." 

"Trust  me,  father,"  cried  the  girl  joyously.  "If  you 
have  gone  through  four  months'  famine,  depend  upon  it 
you  shall  not  be  starved  now." 

The  weather  on  the  following  day  was  all  that  could  be 
desired.    A  warm  and  gentle    west    wind    was   blowing. 


CALL  I  AS.  159 

This  served  them  very  well  as  they  sailed  southward  to 
Sunium.  In  such  goodtiine  did  they  reach  the  promontory, 
that  by  unanimous  vote  they  agreed  to  finish  their 
journey  that  same  day.  Sailing  northward  was  as  easy 
as  sailing  southward,  and  the  sun  was  still  an  hour 
from  setting  when  they  reached  the  northern  end  of  the 
plain,  having  travelled  a  distance  of  upwards  of  sixty  miles. 
This  was  about  three  times  a§  far  as  they  would  have  had  to 
go,  had  they  made  the  journey  by  land.  No  one,  however, 
regretted  having  followed  Hippocles'  suggestion.  The 
voyage  was  indeed  as  delightful  an  excursion  as  could  have 
been  devised.  The  deep  blue  sky  overhead,  the  sea,  bor- 
rowing from  the  heavens  a  color  as  intense,  and  only  touched 
here  and  there  with  a  speck  of  white  wbere  a  little  wave 
swelled  and  broke,  sea  birds  now  flying  high  in  the  air,  now 
darting  for  their  prey  into  the  waters,  the  white  clifl^s 
tipped  with  the  fresh  green  of  spring  that  framed  the  coast 
line,  made  a  picture  that  the  party  intensely  enjoyed,  al- 
t  hough  they  did  not  put  their  enjoyment  into  words  with 
the  fluency  and  ease  which  would  have  come  readily  to  a 
modern.  The  ancients  loved  nature,  but,  as  a  rule,  they  felt 
this  love  much  more  than  they  expressed  it. 

The  little  house  at  Marathon  was  one  that  had  escaped 
destruction  by  having  been  occupied  by  a  Spartan 
officer.  It  was  bare  indeed  of  furniture,  but  it  was  habitable; 
and  the  jmrty  had  brought  with  them  the  few  things 
that  were  absolutely  necessary,  far  fewer,  we  must  remem- 
l)er,  than  what  we  now  consider  to  be  indispensable.  Supper 
was  felt  by  all  to  V>e  a  most  enjoyable  meal.  The  room  in 
which  they  sat  was  bare,  for,  of  course,  the  luxurious 
couches  on  which  it  was  the  fashion  to  recline  were  absent. 
There  was  not  even  a  table,  and  there  was  but  one 
broken  chair,  which  was  naturally  resigned  to  Hermione. 


160  CALLIAS. 

But  it  was  lighted  witli  a  clieerful  fire,  wtiicli  was  not  un- 
welcome after  seven  or  eight  hours'  exposure  to  a  high  wind. 
Happily  the  late  occupant  had  left  a  store  of  logs,  which  had 
been  cut  on  the  slopes  of  Pentelicus  in  the  previous  autumn, 
and  which  now  blamed  up  most  cheerfully.  The  meal  was  de- 
clared by  both  Hippocles  and  Caliias  to  be  good  enough  for 
a  state  banquet  in  the  Prytaneum.  One  of  the  sailors  had 
caught  a  basketful  of  fish  in  ^the  stream,  and  these  Her- 
mione  had  cooked  with  her  own  hands.  An  Athenian  who 
had  plenty  of  fish  seldom  wanted  anything  in  the 
way  of  flesh,  and  the  provisions  which  Hermione,  not 
liking  to  trust  to  the  skill  or  the  luck  of  the  anglers  had 
brought  with  her,  were  not  touched.  A  cold  pudding, 
some  of  the  famous  Attic  figs,  which  had  been  preserved 
through  the  winter,  bread  with  honey  from  Hymettus,  and 
di'ied  grapes  completed  the  repast.  Some  of  the  goats,  it 
turned  out,  had  survived,  and  a  jug  of  their  milk  was  forth- 
coming for  Hermione.  The  two  men  had  a  flask  of  wine 
which  they  largely  diluted  with  water.  When,  after  the 
libation,  Hippocles  proposed  the  toast  of  the  evening,  as,  in 
consideration  of  the  locality  it  might  fairly  be  called,  "To 
the  memory  of  the  Heroes  of  Marathon, "  Hermione  honored 
it  by  putting  her  lips  to  the  cup.  It  was  the  first  time 
that  win^  had  ever  passed  them,  but  she  could  not 
refuse  this  tribute  to  the  chief  glory  of  the  city  of  her 
adoption. 

Hermione,  fatigued  it  may  be  said,  with  all  the  delights 
of  the  day,  retired  early  to  rest.  Soon  after  she  had  gone 
Caliias  took  the  opportunity  of  opening  his  heart  to  his  com- 
panion on  a  subject  which  had  long  occupied  his  thoughts. 

"We  have  peace  at  last,"  he  said,  "not  such  a  peace  as  I 
had  ever  hoped  for,  but  still  better  than  the  utter  ruin 
which  lately  I  had  begun  to  fear.    A  good  citizen  may  now 


CALLIAS.  161 

begin  to  think  of  himself  and  of  his  own  happiness.  You, 
sir,  can  hardly  have  failed  to  observe  why  I  have  begun  to 
look  for  that  happiness.  If  your  daughter  will  only  consent 
to  share  my  life,  I  feel  that  I  shall  have  to  ask  the  gods  for 
nothing  more.  She  is  free  as  far  as  I  know.  And  me  you 
have  known  from  my  childhood.  You  were  my  father's 
friend  and  since  he  died  you  have  stood  in  his  place.  Can 
you  give  her  to  me?" 

Hippocles  caught  his  young  companion's  hand,  and  gave 
it  a  hearty  grasp. 

"I  will  not  pretend,"  he  said,  "not  to  have  observed 
something  of  what  you  say;  nor  will  I  deny  that  I  have  ob- 
ser%'ed  it  with  pleasure.  What  father  would  not  be  glad  if 
Callias,  the  son  of  Hipponicus,  loved  his  daughter  ?  Of  Her- 
mione's  feelings  I  say  nothing,  indeed  I  know  nothing,  save 
that  she  has  regarded  you  since  childhood  with  a  strong  af- 
fection, and  that  as  you  say  she  is  free.  But  there  are  facts 
which  neither  you  nor  I  can  forget;  and  the  chief  of  them  is 
this,  that  while  you  are  Callias,  son  of  Hipponicus,  a 
Eupatrid  of  the  Eupatrids,  I  am  Hippocles,  the  Alien.  I 
am  well-born  in  my  own  country,  but  that  is  nothing  here. 
I  am  wealthy — so  wealthy  that  I  care  not  a  single  drachma 
whether  my  future  son-in-law  has  a  thousand  talents  for  his 
patrimony  or  one.  I  am,  I  hope  and  believe,  not  without 
honor  in  the  city  of  my  adoption.  But  I  am  an  alien,  my 
child  is  an  alien.  Whether  you  have  thought  of  all  that 
this  means  I  know  not — love  is  aj)t  to  hide  these  difficulties 
from  a  man's  eyes — but  the  fact  must  be  faced  ;  you  and 
my  daughter  jnust  face  it.  You  speak  of  my  giving  her  to 
you.  But,  if  Hermione  is  a  Greek,  she  is  also  an  Italian. 
The  Italian  women  choose  for  themselves.  I  could  not  if 
I  would  constrain  her  will.  She  must  decide,  and  she  must 
answer." 


102  GALLIAS. 

"  There  is  nothing  that  I  siiould  desire  better.  But  you 
do  not  tell  me,  sir,  what  you  yourself  wish.  Have  I  your 
consent  and  your  good  wishes?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Hippocles,  "  you  have.  I  have  thought  over 
the  difficulties,  for  I  foresaw  that  you  would  some  day 
speak  to  me  on  this  subject.  As  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  am 
ready  to  waive  them.  But  then,  they  do  not  concern  me 
in  the  first  place." 

The  two  men  sat  in  silence  for  some  time  after  tliis 
conversation  had  passed  between  them,  buried  each  of 
them  in  his  own  thoughts.  At  last  Hippocles  rose  from  his 
seat. 

"  It  is  time  to  sleep,"  he  said;  "  I  will  speak  to  ray  daugh- 
ter to-morrow;  you  shall  not  want  my  good  word,  but  I  can 
do  nothing  more.  You  must  speak  to  her  yourself.  That 
is,  I  think,  what  few  fathers  in  Greece  would  tell  a  suitor  to 
do.    But  then  Hermione  is  not  as  other  maidens." 

Callias  passed  a  restless  night,  and  was  glad  to  make 
his  way  into  the  open  air  when  the  first  ^treaks  of  dawn  ap- 
peared on  the  Euboean  hills,  which  were  in  full  view  from 
the  house.  He  shrank  from  meeting  Hermione  till  he  could 
meet  her  alone,  and  ask  the  momentous  question  which  was 
occupying  his  whole  mind.'  Partly  to  employ  the  time, 
partly  to  banish  thought,  if  it  might  be  done  by  severe 
bodily  exercise,  he  started  to  climb  the  height  of  Pentelicus, 
which  rose  on  the  southern  side  of  the  Marathonian  plain. 
The  excursion  occupied  him  the  whole  morning.  On  his 
way  back  he  traversed  the  hills  which  skirted  the  western 
side  of  the  plain,  and,  following  what  was  evidently  a  well- 
beaten  track,  came  at  last  in  view  of  the  mound  under 
which  reposed  the  Athenian  dead  who  had  fallen  in  that 
great  battle.  His  quick  eye  soon  perceived  a  familiar  figure, 
conspicuous  in  its  white  garments  among  the  monuments 


CALLIAS.  163 

which  stood  on  the  top  of  tlie  mound.  Hippocles  had  ful- 
filled his  promise,  and  had  said  all  that  he  could  to  Hermi- 
one  In  favor  of  her  suitor.  He  had  dwelt  upon  his  noble 
birth,  the  reputation  as  a  soldier  which  he  had  already  won, 
his  culture  and  taste  for  philosophy,  and  his  blameless  life. 
"As  for  wealth,"  he  ended  by  saying,  "  that  is  of  little  ac- 
count where  my  daughter  is  concerned.  Yet  a  man  should 
be  independent  of  his  wife,  and  I  may  tell  you  as  one  who 
knows — ^and  I  have  had  charge  of  his  property  for  some 
^•ears  past — that  Callias  is  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Athens. 
That  will  not  weigh  with  you,  I  know,  but  I  would  have 
you  know  all  the  circumstances."      "^ 

Hermione  said  nothing;  she  took  her  father's  hand  and 
kissed  it.  A  tear  dropped  on  it  as  she  raised  it  to  her  lips. 
As  she  turned  away,  Hippocles  noticed  that  she  was  shaken 
by  a  sob. 

An  instinct  in  the  girl's  heart  told  her  that  it  was  on  the 
mound  that  her  lover  would  speak  to  her,  and  it  was  here 
that  she  wished  to  give  her  answer  to  him.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  that  she  had  visited  it.  Indeed  there  was  not  a 
woman  and  not  many  men  in  Athens  who  knew  so  much 
about  its  records. 

On  the  top  of  this  tumulus,  which  still  rises  thirty  feet 
above  the  surrounding  plain,  and  which  was  then,  it  is 
probable,  considerably  higher,  there  stood  in  those  days 
eleven  stone  columns  inscribed  with  the  names  of  those  who 
had  fallen  in  the  great  battle.  Each  of  the  ten  Athenian 
tribes  had  its  own  peculiar  column,  while  the  eleventh  com- 
memorated the  gallant  men  of  Plataea,  Plataea,  which 
alone  among  the  cities  of  Greece,  had  sent  her  sons  on  that 
day  to  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  soldiers  of 
Athens. 

Hermione  was  apparently  engrossed  in  the  task  of  de- 


IW  CALLIAS. 

ciphering  tlie  names,  now  become  somewhat  obliterated  by 
time,  whicli  were  engraved  on  one  of  the  columns.  So  in- 
tent was  she  on  this  occupation  that  she  did  not  notice  the 
young  man's  approach.  Turning  suddenly  round,  she 
faced  him.  At  that  moment,  tliougli  slie  liad  expected  him 
to  come,  his  actual  coming  was  a  surprise,  and  the  hot  blood 
crimsoned  her  face  and  neck. 

"  Hermione,"  he  said,  "  I  liave  spolten  to  your  father,  and 
he  bids  me  speak  to  you.  You  can  hardly  have  failed  to  read 
my  heart,  and  if  I  have  not  spoken  to  you  before,  it  has  been 
because  I  have  not  presumed.  You  know  all  that  needs  be 
known  about  me,  and  though  I  do  not  think  myself  worthy 
of  you,  I  need  not  be  ashamed  of  my  fathers  or  of  myself." 

The  brilliant  color  had  faded  from  the  girl's  cheek,  her 
hand  trembled,  her  bosom  heaved.  Twice  she  opened  her 
lips;  twice  the  voice  seemed  to  fail  her.     At  last  she  spoke. 

"You speak  of  your  fathers.  Y^ou  are,  I  think,  of  the 
tribe  -of  Paudion  ? ' ' 

"  I  am,"  said  Callias. 

"  And  this  is  the  column  of  their  tribe,  and  this" — she 
pointed  as  she  spoke — ' '  the  name  of  an  ancestor  of  yours  ? ' ' 

"  Yes,"  repUed  the  young  man,  "  this  Hipponicus  whose 
name  you  see  engraved  here  was  my  great-grandfather." 

"He  had  been  Archon  at  Athens  the  year  before  the 
great  battle.  You  see,"  she  added  with  a  faint  smile,  "I 
know  something  of  your  family  history." 

"It  was  so." 

"  And  his  son,  a  Callias  like  yourself,  was  Archon  gen- 
eral many  times — held,  in  fact,  every  honor  that  Athens 
could  bestow  ?  " 

"Yes,  there  was  no  more  distinguished  man  in  the  city 
than  he." 

"  And  your  father  ;  he  died,  I  think  I  have  heard,  in  early 


CALLIAS.  165 

manhood;  but  he  was  akeady  far  advanced  in  the  career  of 
honor  ?  " 

' '  Doubtless  had  he  lived  he  would  not  have  been  inferior 
in  distinction  to  my' grandfather." 

"And  you  have  started  well  in  the  same  course ?  I  need 
not  ask  you  that.  We  all  know  it  better,  perhaps,  than  you 
know  it  yourself,  and  we  are  proud  of  it.  My  dear  brother," 
the  girl's  voice  which  hitherto  had  been  clear  and  even 
commanding  in  its  tones,  faltered  at  the  mention  of  the 
dead,  "my  dear  brother  used  to  say  that  there  was 
nothing  that  you  might  not  hope  for,  nothing  to  which  you 
might  not  rise." 

"  You  speak  too  well  .of  me;  but  I  hope  that  I  am  not  al- 
together unworthy  of  my  ancestors." 

The  girl  paused  for  a  while.  She  seemed  unable  to  utter 
what  she  had  next  to  say.  The  flush  mounted  again  to  her 
cheek,  and  she  stood  silent  and  with  downcast  eyes. 

Meanwhile  the  young  man  stood  in  utter  perplexity.  He 
had  heard  nothing  from  the  girl's  lips  but  what  might 
have  made  any  man  proud  to  hear.  She  knew,  as  she  had 
said,  the  histoiy  of  his  race,  and  she  believed  him  to  be  not 
unworthy  of  it.  Yet  this  was  not  the  way  in  which  he  had 
hoped  to  hear  her  speak.  He  was  conscious  that  there  was 
something  behind  that  did  not  promise  well  for  his  hopes. 

At  last  she  went  on.  Her  voice  was  low  but  distinct,  her 
eyes  were  still  bent  on  the  ground. 

'*  And  what  your  fathers  have  been  in  Athens,  what  you 
hope  to  be  yourself,  you  would  have  your  son  to  be  after 
you  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  he  answered,  without  thinking  of  what  he  was 
admitting. 

"Could  it  be  so  if  I — "  she  altered  the  phrase — "if  a 
woman  not  of  Athenian  blood  were  his  mother?  " 


166  CALLIAS. 

He  was  struck  dumb.  Bo  this  was  the  end  she  had  before 
her  when  she  enumerated  the  honors  and  distinctions  of  his 
race. 

"  Mind,"  she  said,  '*  I  do  not  say  that  my  race  is  unworthy 
of  yours.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  ancestors.  They  were 
chiefe ;  they  were  good  men.  I  am  proud  to  be  their  daughter. 
But  here  in  Athens  their  goodness  and  their  nobility  goes 
for  nothing.  I  am  Hermione,  the  daughter  of  Hippocles, 
the  Alien.  Marrying  me  you  shut  out,  not  perhaps  your- 
self, but  your  children  from  the  career  which  is  their  in- 
heritance. I  am  too  proud," — and  here  the  girl  dropped 
her  voice  to  a  whisper, — "  and  I  love  you  too  well  for  that." 

"  What  is  my  career  to  your  love  ?  "  cried  the  young  man 
passionately  ;  "  I  am  ready  to  give  up  country  and  all  for 
that." 

"That,"  said  Hermione,  "is  the  only  unworthy  thing 
that  I  ever  heard  you  say.  Your  better  thoughts  will  make 
you  withdraw  it.  Athens  has  fallen  ;  the  gods  know  that 
it  has  wrung  my  heart  to  see  it.  But  she  needs  all  the  more 
such  sons  as  you  are.  She  has  little  now  to  offer.  It  is  a 
thankless  office,  perhaps,  to  conmiand  her  fleets  and  armies. 
All  the  more  honor  to  those  who  cling  to  her  still  and  cher- 
ish her  still.  You  must  not  leave  her  or  betray  her.  I 
should  think  foul  shame  of  myself  if  I  tempted  you  for  a 
moment  to  waver  in  your  loyalty  to  her.  I  may  not  love 
you — that  the  gods  have  forbidden  me — but  you  will  let  me 
be  proud  of  you." 

The  young  man  turned  away.  The  final  word,  he  knew, 
had  been  spoken.  This  resolution  was  not  to  be  shaken  by 
indignant  reproaches  or  by  tender  pleadings.  All  that  re- 
mained was  to  forget,  if  that  was  possible.  He  would  not 
see  Hippocles  or  his  daughter  again  till  the  wound  of  this 
bitter  disappointment  had  had  time  to  heal.    Returning  to 


CALLIAS.  167 

the  house,  which  he  found  empty  but  for  a  single  attendant, 
he  snatched  a  hasty  meal,  and  then  set  out  to  return  over- 
land to  Athens. 


CHAPTEE  XIX. 

THE  END  OF  ALCIBIADES. 

Three  days  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  last  chapter 
— it  took  so  much  time  for  the  young  man  to  screw  up  his 
courage  to  the  point — Callias  raade  his  way  to  the  ship-yard 
of  Hippocles  at  an  hour  when  he  knew  that  he  would  be 
pretty  certain  to  find  the  master  there.  He  was  not  disap- 
pointed, nor  could  he  help  being  touched  by  the  warm  sym- 
pathy with  which  he  was  received. 

"  Ah !  my  dear  friend,"  cried  the  merchant,  "  this  has 
been  a  great  disappointment  to  me.  I  must  own  that  I  had 
my  fears.  I  know  something,  you  see,  of  my  daughter's 
temper.  I  knew  that  she  had  always  chafed  under  our 
disabilities.  Things  that  have  ceased  to  trouble  me — ^and  I 
must  own  that  they  never  troubled  me  much — are  grievous 
to  her.  You  see  that  I  have  a  power  of  my  own  which  is 
quite  enough  to  satisfy  any  reasonable  man.  I  can't  speak 
or  vote  in  your  assembly,  but  I  have-  a  voice,  if  I  choose  to 
use  it,  in  your  policy.  She  knows  very  little  about  this,  and 
would  not  appreciate  it  if  she  did.  Besides  it  would  not 
avail  her.  No;  she  feels  herself  an  inferior  here,  and  it  galls 
her;  yet  that  is  scarcely  the  way  to  put  it,  for  she  was  think- 
ing much  more  of  you  than  of  herself.  I  believe  that  she  loves 
you — she  has  not  confided  in  me,  you  must  understand, 
but  I  guess  as  much — and  she  would  sooner  cut  oflT  her 
right  hand  than  injure  you  or  yours.    And  then  her  pride 


CALLIAS.  169 

comes  in  also.  '  Am  I,  daughter  of  kings  as  I  am,'  she 
says  to  herself,  '  am  I  to  be  one  to  bring  humiliation  into 
an  ancient  house?'  Her  mother's  forefathers  would  be 
called  barbarians  here,  but  they  were  kings  and  heroes  for 
all  that.  And  that  is  the  bitterness  of  it  to  her :  to  feel  her- 
self your  equal  in  birth,  and  yet  to  know  that  to  marry  you 
would  be  to  drag  you  down." 

"  I  understand,"  said  CaUias,  "it is  noble;  but  just  now 
my  heart  rebels  very  loudly  against  it.  Let  us  say  no  more. 
I  have  come  to  ask  you  what  you  would  advise.  For  the 
present  I  cannot  stay  at  Athens." 

"  That,"  said  Hippocles,  "is  exactly  what  I  wanted  to 
talk  to  you  about;  if  you  had  not  come  to-day  I  should  have 
sought  for  you.  You  wish  to  leave  Athens,  you  say.  It  is 
well,  for  it  would  not  be  safe  for  you  to  stay.  We  shall  have 
a  bad  time  in  Athens  for  the  next  few  months,  perhaps  for 
longer.  The  exiles  have  come  back  full  of  rage  and  thirsting 
for  revenge.  And  then  there  is  Theramenes;  he  is  the  man 
you  have  to  fear.  He  has  the  murder  of  the  generals  on  his 
soul.  That,  perhaps,  would  not  trouble  him  much  but  he 
fears  all  who  might  be  disposed  to  call  him  to  accoimt  for  it. 
He  knows  that  you  were  the  kinsman  and  dear  friend  of 
Diomedon,  and  he  will  take  the  first  opportunity  that  may 
occur  of  doing  you  a  mischief.  And  opportunities  will  not 
be  wanting.  I  suspect  that  for  some  time  to  come,  with  the 
Oligarchs  in  power  and  the  Lacedaemonians  to  back  them 
up,  laws  and  constitutional  forms  will  not  go  for  nuich  in 
Athens." 

"  And  you  advise  me  to  go?  "  said  Callias. 

"  Certainly  there  is  nothing  to  keep  you.  For  the  present 
there  is  no  career  for  you  here.  I  don't  despair  of  Athens; 
but  for  some  time  to  come  she  will  have  a  very  humble  part 
to  play." 

' '  Have  you  anything  to  suggest  ?  " 


170  CALLIAS. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  over  it  for  two  or  three  days. 
Many  things  have  occurred  to  me,  but  nothing  so  good  aa 
was  suggested  by  a  letter  which  I  received  this  morning. 
It  came  from  a  merchant  in  Rhodes  with  whom  I  have  had 
dealings  for  some  years  past.  My  correspondent  asks  for  a 
large  advance  in  money  for  a  commercial  speculation  which 
he  says  promises  large  profits.  I  have  always  found  the 
man  honest;  in  fact  the  outcomes  of  my  dealings  with  him 
in  the  past  have  been  quite  satisfactory.  But  this  new 
venture  that  he  proposes  is  a  very  large  one  indeed.  I  like 
what  he  tells  me  of  it.  It  opens  up  quite  a  new  field  of 
enterprise;  and  new  fields,  I  need  hardly  tell  you,  have  a 
great  charm  for  a  man  in  my  position.  The  ordinary  rou- 
tine of  commerce  does  not.  interest  me  very  much;  but 
something  new  is  very  attractive.  Now  I  want  you  to  go 
to  Rhodes  for  me.  Make  all  the  enquiries  you  can  about 
the  character  and  standing  of  my  correspondent,  whom, 
curiously  enough,  I  have  never  seen.  I  will  give  you  intro- 
ductions to  those  who  will  put  you  in  the  way  of 
hearing  aU  that  is  to  be  heard.  If  the  man's  credit 
is  shaky  at  all,  then  I  shall  know  that  this  proposition 
of  his  is  a  desperate  venture.  If  all  is  sound,  I  shall  ffeel 
pretty   sure     that    he     has    got    hold   of  a  good  thing." 

"  I  know  very  little  of  such  matters,"  said  the  young  Cal- 
lias  after  a  pause. 

"  I  do  not  ask  you  to  go  that  you  may  judge  of  this  par- 
ticular enterprise;  I  simply  want  you  to  find  out  what  peo- 
ple are  saying  about  Diagoras — that  is  my  correspondent's 
name;  you  will  be  simply  an  Athenian  gentleman  on  his 
travels.  Keep  your  ears  open  and  you  will  be  sure  to  hear 
something." 

"  Well,"  said  Callias,  "  I  will  do  my  best;  but  don't  ex- 
pect too  much." 


CALLIA.S!.  171 

"  Can  you  start  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  think  it  necessary." 

"  Well,  my  affair  is  not  urgent  for  some  days,  at  least. 
But  for  yourself,  I  fancy  you  cannot  get?  out  of  the  way  too 
soon.  I  don't  think  that  Theramenes  and  his  friends  will 
stick  much  at  forms  and  ceremonies.  I  own  that  I  shall 
feel  much  happier  when  there  are  two  or  three  hundred 
miles  of  sea  between  you  and  them.  Be  here  an  hour  after 
sunset  to-morrow.  By  that  time  I  shall  have  arranged  for 
your  passage  and  got  ready  your  letters  of  introduction  and 
therest  of  it." 

"Well,"  said  the  young  man  to  himself  as  he  went  to 
make  his  preparations  for  departure,  "  this,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, is  a  little  hard  on  me.  Hermione  says,  '  Stop  in 
Athens  and  stick  to  your  career' ;  her  father  says,  '  If  you  stop 
in  Athens  you  are  as  good  as  a  dead  man,  and  your  career  will 
be  cut  short  by  the  hemlock  cup.'  I  have  to  give  up  my 
love  for  my  career  and  then  give  up  my  career  for  my  life." 

It  is  needless  to  relate  the  incidents  of  my  hero's  voyage 
to  Rhodes  or  of  his  stay  on  that  island.  His  special  mission 
he  was  able  to  accomplish  easily  enough.  Diagoras'  specu- 
lation was,  as  he  soon  found  out,  the  last  resource  of  an  em- 
barrassed man;  and  the  loan  for  which  he  asked  would  be  a 
risk  too  great  for  any  prudent  person  to  undertake.  The  letter 
in  which  he  conununicated  what  he  had  heard  to  Hippocles 
was  crossed  by  one  from  Athens.  From  this  he  learned  that 
the  political  anticipations  of  the  merchant  had  been  more 
than  fulfilled.  The  oligarchical  revolution  had  been  carried 
on  with  the  most  outrageous  violence.  On  the  very  day  on 
which  he  had  left  Athens,  an  officer  of  the  government  had 
come  with  an  order  for  his  arrest. 

All  this  was  Interesting;  still  more  so  was  a  brief  com- 
munication from  Alcibiades  which  the  merchant  enclosed. 


172 


CALLIA8, 


"  Alcibiades  to  Callias,  'son  of  Hipponicus,  greeting.  Great 
things  are  possible  now  to  ttie  bold  of  whom  I  know  you  to 
be  one.  More  I  do  not  say,  but  come  to  me  as  soon  as  you 
can.    Farewell." 

The  merchant  had  added  a  postscript.  "  I  leave  this  for 
your  consideration.  Alcibiades  has  a  certain  knack  of  suc- 
cess.   But  the  risk  will  be  great. ' ' 

"Whatisrisktome?"  said  CaUias.  "I  can't  spend  my 
life  idling  here." 

The  next  day  he  left  the  island,  taking  his  passage  in  a 
merchant  ship  which,  by  great  good  luck  was  just  starting 
for  Smyrna.  Smyrna  was  reached  without  any  mishap. 
Four  days  afterwards,  he  started  with  a  guide  for  the  little 
village  in  Phrygia  from  which  Alcibiades  had  dated  his 
note.  Halting  at  noon  on  the  first  day's  joiu*ney  to  rest 
their  horses,  they  were  accosted  by  a  miserable  looking 
wayfarer,  who  begged  for  some  scraps  of  food,  declaring 
that  he  had  not  broken  his  fast  for  four  and  twenty  hours. 
Something  in  the  man's  voice  and  face  struck  Callias  as  fa- 
miliar, and  he  puzzled  in  vain  for  a  solution  of  the 
mystery,  while  the  stranger  sat  eagerly  devouring  the  meal 
with  which  he  had  been  furnished. 

"Here,"  said  Callias,  when  the  man  had  finished  his  re- 
past and  was  thanking  him,  "  here  is  something  to  help  you 
along  till  you  can  find  friends  or  employment."  And  he 
gave  him  four  or  five  silver  pieces. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  in  the  fugitive's  hear- 
ing, and  the  man,  who,  now  that  his  ravenous  hunger  was 
appeased,  had  leisure  to  notice  other  things,  started  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice.  He,  on  his  part,  seemed  to  recognize 
something. 

"  Many  thanks,  sir,"  he  said;  "the  gods  pay  you  back 
tenfold.     But  surely,"  he  went  on,  "  I  have  seen  you  be- 


CALLIAS.  173 

fore.  Ah !  now  I  remember.  You  are  Callias,the  son  of 
Hipponicus,  and  you  were  my  master's  guest  in  Thrace." 

A  Ught  flashed  on  the  young  Athenian's  mind.  The  man 
had  been  one  of  Aleibiades'  attendants  in  his  Thracian  castle. 

"  Ah  !  I  remember,"  he  cried,  "  and  your  master  was  Al- 
eibiades.   But  what  do  you  here?    How  does  he  fare?" 

The  man  burst  into  tears.  "Ah,  sir,  he  is  dead,  cruelly 
killed  by  those  villains  of  Spartans.  He  was  the  very  best 
of  masters.  I  never  had  a  rough  word  from  him.  We  all 
loved  him." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Callias,  "how  it  happened.  I  was  on  my 
way  to  him,"  and  he  read  to  the  man  the  brief  note  that  had 
been  forwarded  to  him  at  Rhodes. 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  I  know  when  that  was  written.  He 
ha4  great  hopes  of  being  able  to  do  something.  I  did  not 
rightly  understand  what  it  was,  but  the  common  talk 
among  us  who  were  of  his  household  was  that  he  was  going 
to  the  Great  King  to  persuade  him  that  the  best  thing  that 
he  could  do  would  be  to  set  Athens  on  her  feet  again  to  help 
him  against  Sparta.  Oh  !  he  was  a  wonderful  man  to  per- 
suade, was  my  master.  Nobody  could  help  being  taken  by 
him." 

"  But  teE me  the  story,"  said  the  young  vaaxi. 

"Well,  it  happened  in  this  way.  My  master  had  gone  up 
to  see  Phamabazus,  the  Satrap,  who  had  promised  to  aid 
him  on  his  way  up  to  Susa  to  see  the  Great  King.  There 
were  six  of  us  with  him;  his  secretary,  myself  and  four 
slaves.  There  was  Timandra,  also,  whom  he  used  to  call 
his  wife;  but  his  real  wife  was  an  Athenian  lady,  Hipparete, 
I  have  heard  say." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  CaUias,  "  I  knew  her;  a  cousin  of  my 
own;  a  most  unhappy  marriage.    But  go  on." 

"Well,    Pharnabazus   received   him   most     hospitably. 


174  CALL  I  AS. 

There  was  no  good  house  in  the  village,  so  we  had  three 
cottages.  Alcibiades  had  one;  the  secretary  and  I  another, 
and  the  slaves,  a  third.  Every  day  the  Satrap  sent  a  hand- 
some supply  of  provisions  for  us;  dishes  and  wine  from  his 
own  table  for  my  master,  and  for  us  all  that  we  could  want 
for  ourselves.  I  never  fared  better  in  my  Ufe.  And  my 
master  had  long  talks  with  him  and  seemed  in  excellent 
spirits.  Everything  was  going  on  as  well  as  possible.  Then 
there  came  a  change.  I  never  could  find  out  whether  my 
master  had  heard  anything  to  make  him  suspicious.  If  he 
had,  he  certainly  told  the  secretary  nothing  about  it.  But 
he  was  very  much  depressed.  First  he  sent  Timandra away. 
She  was  very  unwilling  to  go,  poor  lady,  for  she  did  love 
my  master  very  much,  though,  as  I  say,  she  was  not  really 
his  wife.  But  my  master  insisted  on  it,  so  she  went  away 
to  stay  with  some  friends.  After  that  his  spirits  grew  worse 
and  worse.  He  used  to  tell  his  secretary  the  dreams  he 
had.  Once  he  dreamt  he  was  dressed  in  Timandra' s 
clothes,  and  that  she  was  putting  rouge  and  powder  on  his 
face.  At  another  time  he  seemed  to  see  himself  laid  on  a 
funeral  pyre  and  the  people  standing  round  ready  to  set  it 
on  fire.  The  very  night  after  he  had  that  dream 
we  were  awakened  by  a  tremendous  uproar;  the 
secretary  and  I  got  up  and  looked  out.  The  master's 
cottage,  which  was  about  a  stadium*  away  from  ours 
was  on  fire,  and  there  were  a  nxunber  of  Persians,  about 
fifty  or  sixty,  standing  round  it,  shouting  out  and  cursing 
htm.  The  next  moment*  we  saw  the  door  of  the  cottage 
open,  and  the  master  ran  out  with  a  cloak  round  his  head, 
to  keep  himself  from  being  choked  by  the  smoke,  and  with 
a  sword  in  his  hand.  As  soon  as  he  was  clear  of  the 
burning  cottage  he  threw  down  the  cloak  and  rushed 
•  A  stadium  was  nearly  a  furlong ;  to  be  exact,  202  yards. 


CALLIAS.  176 

straight  at  the  nearest  Persian.  The  man  turned  and  ran. 
There  was  not  one  of  them  that  dared  stand  for  a  moment. 
But  they  shot  at  him  with  arrows.  They  had  fastened  the 
gates  of  the  enclosure  in  which  the  cottages  stood,  you  must 
understand,  so  that  he  could  not  escape.  In  fact  he  was 
climbing  over  one  of  them  when  he  was  killed." 

"  And  you  ;  what  did  you  do?" 

"  Ah  !  sir,"  cried  the  man,  *'  we  were  helpless,  we  had  not 
a  sword  between  us.  We  hid  ourselves,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing took  our  master's  body  and  carried  it  to  Timandra.  She 
made  a  great  funeral,  spending  upon  it,  poor  thing,  nearly 
every  drachma  she  had.  When  we  had  seen  the  last  of 
my  dear  master,  the  secretary  said  that  he  had  friends  at 
Tarsus,  and  set  out  to  go  there.  I  thought  that  I  had  best 
make  my  way  to  Smyrna.  Thanks  to  your  goodness,  I 
shall  now  be  able  to  get  there,  but  I  was  very  nearly  dying 
of  starvation.  But  what,  if  I  may  ask,  are  you  thinking  of 
doing?" 

"  That  I  can't  tell,"  replied  the  Athenian;  "  as  I  told  you, 
I  Was  on  my  way  to  Alcibiades." 

"  Well,  sir,  I  can  tell  you  this,"  rejoined  the  stranger,  "no 
friends  of  my  master's  will  be  safe  here.  Phamabazus,  I 
feel  sure,  had  no  great  love  for  him,  notwithstanding  all  his 
politeness;  as  for  the  Spartans,  they  hated  him;  and  I  did 
hear  that  the  people  who  are  now  in  power  at  Athens  had 
sent  to  say  that  peace  could  not  last  unless  he  were  put  out 
of  the  way.  Yes,  sir,  if  anyone  recognizes  that  you  are  my 
master's  friend,  you  are  a  dead  man." 

"  Why,"  said  Callias,  "  I  have  mdde  no  secret  of  it.  In 
Smyrna  I  spoke  about  him  to  the  people  with -whom  I  was 
staying.    No  one  said  a  word  against  him." 

"Very  likely  not,"  replied  the  man,  "for  they  thought 
that  he  was  alive,  and  no  one  liked  to  have  my  master  for 


176  CALLIAS. 

an  enemy.  He  had  a  wonderful  way  of  making  friends  to 
have  the  upper  hand  and  contriving  that  his  adversaries 
should  have  the  worst  of  it.  But  now  that  he  is  dead  you 
will  find  things  very  different." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  asked  the  young  Athenian. 

*'  Can  you  trust  your  guide?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  of  the  man.  I  simply  hired  him  be- 
cause I  was  told  that  he  was  a  fairly  honest  fellow,  knew 
the  country  very  well,  and  would  not  run  away  if  a  robber 
made  his  appearance." 

"  Well,  then  get  rid  of  him." 

"But  how?" 

"  TeU  him  that  you  have  a  headache,  and  that  you  will 
come  on  after  him  when  you  have  rested  a  little  and  the  sun 
is  not  so  hot,  and  that  he  had  better  go  on,  get  quarters  at 
the  next  stage  and  have  everything  ready  for  you  when  you 
shall  arrive.  As  soon  as  he  is  gone,  get  back  as  fast  as  you 
can  to  Smyrna.  The  news  will  hardly  have  reached  that 
place  yet,  indeed  we  may  be  sure  that  it  has  not,  or  you 
would  have  heard  of  it  before  you  started.  Go  down  to  the 
docks,  and  take  your  passage  in  any  ship  that  you  can  find 
ready  to  start.  Even  if  it  is  going  to  Athens  never  mind; 
you  will  be  able  to  leave  it  on  the  way.  Anyhow,  get  out 
of  Asia  at  any  risk." 

"And  you?" 

' '  Oh,  no  one  wiU  care  about  me.  I  am  a  very  insignificant 
person.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  shall  try  to  get  to  Syra- 
cuse.   I  was  born  there." 

' '  Syracuse  will  do  as  well  for  me  as  any  other  place.  Why 
not  come  with  me  if  it  can  be  managed  ?  I  was  able  to  do 
you  a  little  service,  and  you  have  done  me  a  great  one.  Let 
us  go  together." 

The  plan  was  carried  out  with  the  greatest  success.    Cal- 


CALL  FAS.  177 

lias  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  Smyrna,  and  left  his  horse  at 
an  inn,  not,  of  course,  the  one  from  which  he  had  started.  As 
he  had  plenty  of  money  for  immediate  wants,  besides  letters 
of  credit  from  Hippocles,  he  thought  it  safer  not  to  attempt 
to  sell  the  animal.  He  then  provided  himself  with  different 
clothes,  purchasing  at  the  same  time  a  suit  for  his  new  ac- 
quaintance. These  he  ordered  to  be  sent  to  a  small  house  of 
entertainment  near  the  docks  which  they  had  arranged 
should  be  the  place  of  meeting.  Shortly  before  sunset  the 
man  appeared.  Meanwhile  Callias  had  arranged  for  a  pas- 
sage for  himself  and  his  servant  in  a  ship  bound  for  Corinth. 
They  would  not  venture  into  Corinth  itself,  but  would 
transfer  themselves  at  the  port  of  Cenchreae  into  some  ship 
bound  for  Sicily. 

Before  the  morning  of  the  next  day  the  two  were  on  their 
way  westward.  Everything  went  well.  At  Cenchreae  they 
found  a  Syracusan  merchantman  just  about  to  start,  shipped 
onboard  her,  and  after  a  prosperous  voyage  found  them- 
selves in  the  chief  city  of  Sicily. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

DIONYSIUS. 

It  was  with  no  common  emotion  that  the  young  Athen- 
ian entered  the  great  harbor  of  Syracuse.  It  was  here  that 
the  really  fatal  blow  had  been  struck  from  which  his 
country  had  never  recovered.  She  had  struggled  gallantly 
on  for  nearly  ten  years  after  she  had  lost  the  most  magnifi- 
cent armament  that  she  had  ever  sent  forth,  but  the  wound 
had  been  mortal.  Thenceforward  she  had  been  as  a  man  of 
whose  life-blood  a  half  had  been  drained  away.  Callias  had 
read,  shortly  before  leaving  Athens  for  the  last  time,  the  mag- 
nificent passage,  then  recently  published,  in  which  the 
great  historian  of  Athens  had  described  the  decisive  battle 
in  the  harbor.*  The  sight  of  the  place  now  enabled  him  to 
realize  it  to  himself  in  the  most  vivid  way.  He  seemed  to 
see  the  hostile  fieets  crowded  together  in  a  way  for  which 
there  was  no  precedent,  two  liundred  war  galleys  in  a  space 
so  narrow  that  maneuver  was  impossible,  and  nothing 
availed  but  sheer  fighting  and  hard  blows;  while  the  shores 
seemed  alive  again  as  they  had  been  on  that  eventful  day 
with  a  crowd  of  eager  spectators,  the  armies  of  the  two  con- 
tending powers,  who  looked  on  with  passionate  cries  and 
gestures  at  such  a  spectacle  as  human  eyes  had  scarcely  wit- 
nessed before,  ji  mighty  war-game  in  which  their  own  liber- 
ties and  lives  were  the  stake.    The  heights  that  ran  above 

•  See  Thucydides,  VII.  71, 


\ 


CA  LLIA/S.  179 

the  harbor  were  scarcely  less  significant.  There,  its  re- 
mains still  "VTsible,  had  been  the  Athenian  line  of  invest- 
ment. If  only  a  few  yards  more  had  been  completed,  the 
young  man  thought  to  himself,  the  whole  course  of  historj- 
might  have  been  changed.*  Not  far  away  was  the  spot 
where  the  sturdy  infantry  of  Thebes  had  withstood  the  fiery 
shock  of  his  own  countrymen,  and  so,  not  for  the  first  time, 
wrested  from  them  the  empire  that  seemed  almost  within 
their  grasp,  f  And  somewhere — no  one  knew  where — his  own 
father  had  fallen,  one  of  the  thousands  of  noble  victims  who 
had  been  sacrificed  to  the  greed  and  ambition  of  a  restless 
democracy.  • 

The  noble  house  of  which  Callias  was  the  representative 
had,  of  course,  its  hereditary  guest-friend  at  Syracuse. 
Naturally  there  had  been  very  little  intercourse  between 
citizens  of  the  two  states  in  late  years;  but  the  old  tie  re- 
mained unbroken,  and  Medon,  for  that  was  the  Syracusan's 
name,  was  as  ready  to  give  a  hospitable  welcome  to  the 
young  Athenian,  as  if  he  had  been  a  citizen  of  one  of  his 
country's  allies,  a  merchant  prince  of  Corinth,  or  a  scion  of 
one  of  the  two  royal  houses  of  Sparta,  He  insisted  upon  his 
guest  taking  up  his  quarters  in  his  house,  and  exerted  him- 
self to  the  utmost  to  supply  and  even  anticipate  everj- 
want. 

"Now  you  have  seen  something  of  the  outside  of  our  city," 
said  Medon  to  his  friend  as  they  sat  together  after  the  even- 
ing meal  on  the  third  day  after  his  arrival,  "you  should 
know  something  of  its  politics.  But  first  let  me  make  sure 
that  we  are  alone." 

*  A  very  small  space  yet  remained  to  be  erected  when  Gyllppus  and 
his  Lacedaemonians  broke  through,  relieved  Syracuse,  and  practically 
decided  the  Issne  of  the  campaign. 

t  Coronea  (447)  and  Delium  (424)  had  been  defeats  inflicted  by  the 
Boeotians  on  the  Athenian  army  at  very  critical  periods  wlien  the  vic- 
tory of  the  latter  must  have  iiad  very  far  reaching  results. 


180  CALLIAS. 

The  dining  cliamber  in  which  the  two  were  sitting  had  an 
anteroom.  The  door  of  this  the  Syracusan  proceeded  to 
bolt. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  we  shall  have  no  eavesdroppers.  Any 
inqidsitive  friend- may  listen  at  that  other  door,  with  all 
this  space  between  us  and  him,  without  getting  much  idea 
of  what  we  are  talking  about.  All  the  other  walls  are  outer 
walls,  as  you  know,  and  unless  a  certain  great  personage  has 
the  birds  of  the  air  in  his  pay,  we  may  talk  without  re- 
serve. You  look  surprised.  Well,  you  will  understand 
things  a  little  better  when  you  have  heard  what  I  have  to  tell 
you.  Yftu  know  something,  I  suppose,  of  what  has  been  hap- 
pening here  of  late  years.  The  fact  is  we  have  been  going 
through  an  awful  time.  No  sooner  were  we  free  of  the 
danger  that  you  put  us  in — you  must  pardon  me  for  alluding 
to  it — than  we  were  confronted  with  another  which  was 
every  whit  as  formidable.  Another  wretched  quarrel  be- 
tween two  towns  in  the  island — curiously  enough  the  verj' 
same  two  that  were  concerned  in  your  expedition  against 
us* — brought  in  a  foreign  invader.  This  time  it  was  the 
Carthaginians.  They  had  had  settlements  in  tlie  island 
for  many  years,  had  always  coveted  the  dominion  of 
the  whole,  and  more  than  once  had  been  very  near 
getting  it. 

' '  They  were  not  far  from  success  this  time.   First  they  took 

Selinus  and  massacred  every  creature  in  it ;  then  they  took 

Acragas  ;!  then  they  utterly  destroyed  Himera.     Something 

made  them  hold  their  hands,  and  we  had  a  short  breathing 

space.     Four  years  afterwards  they  came  back  in  greater 

force  than  ever.    Acragas  was  besieged  ;  it  held  out  bravely, 

but  at  last  the  population  had  to  leave  it ;  only  Syracuse  was 

*  The  two  were  Selinus  and  Egesta. 

t  Commonly  known  by  Its  Latinized  name  of  Agrigentum. 


CALLIAfi.  181 

left.  Again  when  in  the  full  tide  of  victory,  the  Carthagini- 
ans held  their  hand.  Do  you  ask  me  why  ?  I  cannot  tell 
you.  But  listen  to  the  fourth  article  of  the  treaty  of  peace." 
In  spite  of  the  precautions  that  he  had  taken  against  being 
overheard,  Medon,  at  this  point  lowered  his  voice.  "Syra- 
cuse is  to  be  under  the  rule  of  Dionysius.  Yes;  the  secret 
is  there;  it  was  he  that  made  it  worth  their  while  to  go; 
and  you  may  be  sure  that  it  was  worth  his  while  to  buy 
them  off.  I  must  allow  that  he  was  the  only  man  who 
showed  a  grain  of  sense  or  courage  in  the  whole  matter;  the 
other  generals  as  they  were  called  were  hopelessly  imbe- 
cile. Well,  they  went,  and  Dionysius  became,  shall  we 
call  it,  'commander-in-chief,'  or  i)erhaps  as  we  are  quite 
alone,  'tyrant?'  He  had  not  an  easy  time  of  it  at  first;  I 
don't  suppose  that  he  will  ever  have  an  easy  time,  tyrants 
seldom  do.  The  nobles  and  the  heads  of  the  democratic 
party  leagued  together  against  him,  and  drove  him  out. 
That  did  not  last  long.  Of  course  the  conquerors  used  their 
victory  most  brutally.  They  were  furious  that  Dionysius 
had  slipped  out  of  their  hands,  and  wreaked  their  vengeance 
on  his  poor  wife.  I  can't  tell  you  the  horrible  way  in  which 
they  killed  her.  She  was  the  daughter,  too,  of  Henno- 
crates,  oneof  the  very  best  and  noblest  men  that  Syracvise 
ever  had.  Equally  of  course  they  quarrelled  over  the  spoils. 
Naturally,  before  long  they  had  nothing  left  to  quarrel 
over.  Dionysius  hired  a  force  of  Campanian  mercenaries, 
the  hardest  hitters,  by  the  way,  that  I  ever  saw,  and  drove 
them  out  of  the  city.  Now,  I  fancy,  he  is  pretty  firmly 
seated.  The  people  like  him ;  they  were  never  as  fit,  you 
must  know,  for  popular  government  as  yours  are.  He  gives 
them  plenty  of  employment  and  amusements,  wrings  the 
money  out  of  us  with  a  tight  hand,  and  scatters  it  among 
them  with  an  open  one.  Of  course  a  dagger  may  reach  him, 


182  CALLIAS. 

and  there  are  not  a  few  that  are  kept  ready  sharpened  for 
the  chance.  Barring  that,  he  is  likely  to  be  master  here  as 
long  as  he  lives.  And  to  tell  you  the  truth,  though  personally 
I  hate  the  idea,  as  any  noble  must — it  is  the  nobles  that  al- 
ways hate  a  tyrant  most — ^yet  I  do  not  see  that  anything 
could  be  better  for  Syracuse.  The  Carthaginian  danger 
is  not  over  yet,  and  Dionysius  is  the  very  ablest  soldier 
and  administrator  that  we  have.  Of  course  the 
pinch  will  come  later.  A  ruler  of  this  sort  always 
becomes  harder,  more  cruel,  more  suspicious  as  he 
grows  older.  And  if  he  has  a  son,  brought  up  in  the 
bad  atmosphere  of  tyranny,  the  country  has  a  terrible 
time  of  it.  Happily  the  son  is  generally  a  fool, 
and  brings  the  whole  thing  down  with  a  crash.  But 
all  this  is  far  off.  Dionysius  is  still  a  young  man, 
not  more  than  twenty-six  years  old,  I  fancy.  How- 
ever, you  shall  see  him — we  are  verj'  good  friends  in 
pubhc — and  judge  for  yourself." 

Callias,  who  had  the  hereditary  abhorrence  of  his  race  for 
anything  like  tyranny,*  demurred  at  the  proposed  intro- 
duction to  the  despot.  Medon  was  very  urgent  in  over- 
ruling his  objection.  "  Don't  mistake  Sicily  for  Greece,"  he 
said;  "  we  are  half  barbarous,  and  what  would  be  monstrous 
with  you  is  quite  in  its  right  place  here.  I  grant  you  that 
an  honest  man  should  have  no  dealings  with  a  tjTant  who 
should  set  himself  up  at  Thebes,  or  Corinth,  or  Argos.  But 
it  is  different  here.  I  am  sure  that  the  man  governs  us  bet- 
ter than  we  should  be  governed  by  the  people,  or,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  by  the  nobles  either." 

At  last  the  Athenian  consented.    "Very  good,"  cried 

♦Tyranny,  in  Its  Greek  sense,  it  may  be  explained,  is  the  unconsti- 
tutional rule  of  a  single  person.  It  does  not  necessarily  connote,  as  in 
English,  cruelty  or  oppression.  Except  in  Sparta,  where  the  kings,  in- 
deed, were  only  hereditary  commanders-in-chief,  there  was  no  king  in 
any  Greek  state.  Wherever  an  individual  ruled,  he  was,  of  necessity,  a 
tyrant. 


CALLIA&  183 

Medon,  "  you  will  go.  Then  we  will  lose  no  time  about  it. 
Depend  upon  it,  Dionysius  knows  all  about,  j^ou;  and  if  you 
do  not  pay  your  respects  to  him  without  loss  of  time  he  will 
be  suspicious.  Suspicion  is  the  bane  of  his  situation.  Ser- 
vant, friend,  wife;  he  trusts  nobody." 

The  next  day  Medon  and  his  guest  presented  themselves 
at  the  palace.  The  Athenian  had  half  turned  back  when 
he  found  that  he  must  be  searched.  No  one  was  admitted 
into  the  presence  until  that  precaution  had  been  taken,  and 
his  freeman's  pride  revolted.  Medpn  simply  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "He is  quite  right,"  he  whispered  to  his  indig- 
nant friend,  "he  would  not  live  a  month  if  he  did  not  doit." 

Dionysius  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  busy  with  his  studies, 
when  the  two  visitors  were  announced.  A  slave  was  read- 
ing to  him  from  a  roll,  and  he  was  taking  notes  on  a  wax 
tablet.     He  welcomed  the  newcomers  with  much  cordiality. 

"  So,  Medon,  you  have  brought  your  Athenian  friend  at 
last.    I  hope  that  you  have  not  been  slandering  me  to  him. ' ' 

"  My  lord,"  answered  Medon  with  a  courtly  bow,  "  I  have 
told  him  the  historj'  of  the  last  five  years,  and  have  taken 
him  to  see  Syracuse.    That  is  not  the  way  to  slander  you." 

"  Good,"  said  Dionysius,  "  I  shall  have  you  a  courtier  yet." 

He  then  turned  to  the  Athenian,  asked  him  a  few  ques- 
tions, all  with  the  nicest  tact,  about  his  movements,  and 
finally  named  a  time  when  he  should  be  at  leisure  to  have 
some  real  conversation  with  him. 

"Believe  me,"  he  said*  "I  honor  the  Athenians '  more 
than  any  other  people  in  Greece;  a  strange  thing  you  may 
think  for  a  Syracusan  to  say,  but  it  is  true." 

Certainly  when  Calllas  presented  himself  at  the  appointed 
time,  everything  that  his  royal  host  had  said  seemed  to  bear 
out  this  a.ssurance.    "  Afterto-day,"  hesaid,  "  politics  shall  be 


184  CALLIAS. 

banished  from  our  talk.  Don't  suppose  for  a  moment  that  if 
I  had  been  a  citizen  of  Athens,  I  should  have  attempted,  that 
I  should  even  have  wished,  to  be  what  I  am  here.  But  Syra- 
cuse is  not  capable  of  being  what  Athens  is.  Even  you  find 
liberty  a  little  hard  to  manage  sometimes.  Here  it  is  a 
farce,  only  a  very  bloody  farce.  Listen  to  what  happened 
to  my  father-in-law,  Hermocrates.  There  never  was  an 
abler  man  in  the  country.  If  it  had  not  been  for  him,  I 
verily  believe  that  you  would  have  conquered  us.  He  saved 
the  city;  and  then,  a  little  time  afterwards,  because  he  did 
not  do  what  ten  years  before  no  one  would  have  dreamt  of 
doing,  that  is,  conquer  you  Athenians  in  a  searflght,  they 
banished  him.  Can  you  imagine  such  ingratitude,  such 
folly?  Well;  he  was  not  disposed  to  put  up  with  it;  he  saw 
what  I  see,  that  the  Syracusans  are  not  fit  to  govern  them- 
selves, and  if  it  had  not  been  for  an  accident,  perhaps  I  ought 
rather  to  say  his  own  reckless  courage,  he  would  have  been 
in  my  place  now.*  "What  he  intended  to  do  I  have  done.  I 
saved  Syracuse  as  he  saved  her  from  Athens;  and  I  dare  say 
that  in  a  year  or  two  my  grateful  countrymen  would  have 
banished  me  as  they  banished  him.  Only  I  have  been  be- 
forehand with  them.  So  much  for  poUtics;  now  let  us  talk 
of  something  more  pleasant  and  more  profitable. 

"  Tell  me  now,  do  you  know  one  Socrates  in  your  city,  a 
very  wise  man  they  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  him  weU." 

*' And  he  is  wise  ?  "  % 

"Yes,  indeed;  there  is  no  one  like  him;  and  so  the  god 
*  Hermocrates^,  resenting  the  decree  of  banishment  that  had  been 
passed  against  him,  attempted  to  make  himself  master  of  the  city.  He 
marched  with  the  force  that  he  had  raised  from  SeUnus,  where  he  was 
encamped,  and  made  such  haste  that  he  found  himself  with  only  a  few 
companions  far  in  advance,  and  close  to  the  gates  of  Syracuse.  While 
he  halted  to  allow  the  army  to  come  up,  the  leaders  within  the  walls 
sallied  out.  overpowered  the  little  party,  and  killed  their  leader.  There 
is  very  little  douot  but  that  he  had  resolved  to  seize  absolute  power. 


CA  LLIAS.  185 

thought,  for  the  Pythia  declared  him  to  be  the  wisest  of 
men." 

"  I  should  dearly  like  to  see  him.  Do  you  tiiink  it  likely 
that  he  would  come  here,  if  I  were  to  invite  him  ?  I  would 
make  it  worth  his  while." 

"  I  fear  there  is  no  chance  of  it.  He  never  leaves  Athens; 
never  has  left  it  except  when  he  served  abroad  with  the 
army,  and  as  for  money,  he  is  quite  careless  about  it." 

"  But  he  takes  a  fee  for  his  teaching,  I  suppose.  " 

"  Not  a  drachma." 

"Well,  that  astonishes  me.  Why,  Qorgias  would  not 
teach  anyone  for  less  than  half  a  talent,  and  has  got  to- 
gether, I  suppose,  a  pretty  heap  of  money  by  this  time. 
But,  perhaps,  if  I  could  not  get  the  great  man  himself,  I 
might  get  one  of  his  disciples.  Whom  do  men  reckon  to  be 
the  first  among  them  ?  " 

"  I  think  that  one  Plato  is  the  most  famous.  He  was  a 
poet  when  he  was  quite  young,  indeed  he  is  young  now, 
and  had  a  great  reputation;  but  he  has  given  up  poetry  for 
philosophy." 

"  That  seems  a  pity.  I  don't  see  why  a  man  should  not 
be  both  poet  and  philosopher.  I  am  a  little  of  both  myself. 
Can  you  remember  anything  that  he  has  written  ?  " 

"Yes;  there  was  an  epigram  which  everyone  was  repeat- 
ing when  I  left  Athens.  It  was  written  for  the  tomb  of  one 
of  his  fellow  disciples." 

"Letmehearit." 

Callias  repeated, 

"  In  life  like  Morning  star  thy  shining  head ; 
And  now  the  star  of  Evening  'mid  the  dead." 

"  Very  pretty  indeed.     I  have  something  very  like  it  of 
my  own.    Would  you  like  to  hear  it  ?  " 
Callias  of  course  politely  assented  and  expressed  as  much 


186  CALLIAS. 

admiration  as  liis  conscience  permitted,  possibly  a  little 
more,  for  the  composition  was  vapid  and  clmnsy. 

But  though  Dionysius  was  an  indifferent  composer,  he 
had  reallj'  a  very  strong  interest  in  literary  matters.  Per- 
sonal vanity  had  sbmething  to  do  with  it,  for  he  was  folly 
con^^need  of  his  own  abilities  in  this  way;  but  he  had  a 
genuine  pleasure  in  talking  on  the  subject.  This  was  indeed 
the  first  of  many  conversations  which  the  young  Athenian 
had  with  him.  Politics  were  never  mentioned  again,  but 
poetry,  the  drama,  indeed  eveiy  kind  of  literary  work,  sup- 
plied topics  of  unfailing  interest.  The  drama  was ,  perhaps, 
the  desj)ot's  favorite  topic.  He  had  received  not  long  before 
Callias'  arrival,  a  copy  of  the  play  which  was 
■described  in  my  first  chapter,  and  was  never  tired  of 
asking  questions  about  various  points  of  interest  in  it. 
It  soon  became  evident  that  his  special  ambition  lay  in  this 
•direction. 

"  So,  now  that  your  two  great  men  are  gone,"  he  said  to 
the  young  Athenian,  "  you  have  no  man  of  really  the  first 
rank  among  your  dramatists  ?  " 

"I  should  say  not,"  replied  Callias.  "  Some  think  well  of 
lophon,  who  is  the  son  of  Sophocles.  Others  say  that  he 
would  be  nothing  without  his  father.  They  declare  that 
the  old  man  helped  him  when  he  was  alive,  and  that  what 
he  has  brought  out  since  his  father's  death  is  really  not  his 
own." 

"Well,"  said  Dionysius,  "the  stock  wiU  be  exhausts 
ed  before  long.  And  there  is  no  one,  you  say,  besides 
him?" 

"  No  one,  certainly  of  any  reputation." 

"  Then  there  would  be  a  chance  for  an  outsider?  But 
would  a  dramatist  that  was  not  an  Athenian  be  allowed  to 
exhibit?" 


QALLIAS.  187 

"I  know  nothing  to  the  contrary.  But  I  do  not  know 
that  there  has  ever  been  a  case.  Anyhow  it  would  be  easy 
to  exhibit  in  the  name  of  a  citizen." 

' '  An  excellent  idea  !  I  shall  certainly  manage  it  somehow. 
The  first  prize  at  your  festival  would  be  almost  as  well 
worth  having  as  the  tyranny  itself."* 

It  is  not  surprising  that  a  ruler  who  cherished  such  tastes 
should  have  reckoned  a  library  among  the  ornaments  which 
were  to  make  Syracuse  the  most  splendid  among  Greek 
cities.  In  his  Athenian  guest  he  believed  himself  to  have 
found  a  competent  agent  for  carrying  this  purpose  into 
effect;  and  Callias  was  in  truth  a  well  educated  person 
who  knew  what  books  were  worth  buying.  He  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  literature  of  his  own  country  and 
had  a  fairly  competent  knowledge  of  what  had  been  pro- 
duced elsewhere  in  Greece.  For  the  next  three  years  it  was 
his  employment,  and  one,  on  the  whole  not  uncongenial  to 
his  tastes,  to  collect  volmnes  for  Dionysius.  In  Sicily  there 
was  little  culture,  but  the  Greek  cities  of  Italy  furnished 
a  more  fertile  field.  There  was  not  indeed  much  in  the  way 
of  belles-lettres.  Works  pf  this  kind  had  to  be  imported 
for  the  most  part,  either  from  Athens,  or  from  Lesbos, 
where  the  traditions  of  the  school  of  Sappho  and  Alcseus 
were  not  extinct,  but  books  on  philosophy  and  science, 
could  be  secured  in  considerable  numbers.  At  Crotona,  for 
instance,  Callias  was  fortunate  enough  to  secure  a  valuable 
scientific  library  which  had  been  for  some  years  in  the 
family  of  Democedes,  while  at  Tarentum  he  purchased  a 
handsome  collection  of  treatises  by  teachers  of  the  school  of 

Pythagoras. 

•  Dionysius  did  actually  compete  many  times.  He  is  said  to  have 
(gained  the  second  and  third  prizes  more  than  once;  and  Anally  in  the 
last  year  of  his  life  won  the  first  honors  for  a  play  entitled  "  The  Ransom- 
ing of  Hector."  One  of  the  various  accounts  of  his  death  attributes  it  to 
the  excessive  feasting  in  which  he  indulged  on  hearingof  his  victory. 


1«8  CALLIAS. 

This  occupation  was  varied  iiv  the  second  year  of  his  resi- 
dence by  an  Interesting  mission  to  Rome.  That  city,  the 
rising  greatness  of  which  so  keen  an  observer  as  Dionysius 
was  able  to  discern,  was  at  tliis  time  sorely  distressed  by  a 
visitation  of  famine,  and  had  applied  far  and  wide  for  help. 
The  harvests  of  Sicily  had  been  remarkably  abundant,  and 
Dionysius  sent  a  magnificent  present  of  a  hundred  thousand 
bushels  of  wheat,  putting  Callias  in  charge  of  the  mission. 

In  spite  of  these  honorable  and  not  distasteful  employ- 
ments the  young  Athenian  did  not  greatly  like  his  position. 
It  would  indeed  have  been  scarcely  endurable  to  a  soul  that 
had  been  reared  in  an  atmosphere  of  Uberty,  but  for  the  fact 
that  his  work  took  him  much  away  from  Syracuse,  Dionysius 
was  all  courtesy  and  generosity  in  his  dealings  with  him; 
but  he  was  a  tyrant;  there  was  iron  under  his  velvet  glove. 
It  was  therefore  with  a  considerable  feeling  of  relief  that  in 
the  early  spring  of  the  third  (or  according  to  classical 
reckoning  the  fourth)  year  after  the  fall  of  Athens,  he  re- 
ceived a  missive  from  Xenophon  couched  in  the  following 
terms. 

"  Meet  me  at  Tarsus  with  all  the  speed  you  can.  Great 
things  lie  before  us,  of  which  you  will  hear  more  at  the 
proper  time.    Farewell." 

Leave  of  absence  was  obtained  with  some  difficulty,  and 
towards  the  end  of  June,  Callias  found  himself  at  the  ap- 
pointed place. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

CYRUS  THE    YOUNGER. 

Almost  the  first  person  that  the  Athenian  saw  when  he 
disembarked  at  Tarsus  was  Xenophou.  The  latter  was  evi- 
dently in  the  highest  spirits. 

"  You  are  come  at  exactly  the  right  moment,"  he  cried. 
"  All  is  going  well;  but,  three  days  ago,  I  should  have  said 
that  all  would  end  badly.  Cyrus  and  Clearchus  have 
thrown  for  great  stakes,  and  they  have  won;  but  at  first  the 
dice  were  against  them.  But  I  forget;  you  know  nothing 
of  what  happened.  I  will  explain.  You  know  something 
about  Cyrus,  the  Great  King's  brother?  " 

Callias  assented. 

"You  know  that  he  was  scarcely  contented  to  be  what  he 
was,  in  fact  that  he  was  disposed  to  claim  the  throne." 

"I  heard  some  talk  of  the  kind  when  I  was  with 
Alcibiades." 

"  Listen  then  to  what  happened.  Cyrus,  to  put  a  long 
story  in  a  few  words,  collected  by  one  means  or  another 
about  thirteen  thousand  Greek  soldiers.  He  gave  out  that 
he  was  going  to  lead  them  against  the  mountain  tribes  of 
Cilicia.  But  his  real  object  has  all  along  been  to  march  up 
to  Susa,  and  drive  the  King  from  his  throne.  Clearchus 
knew  this;  I  fancy  some  others  guessed  it;  I  know  I  did  for 
one.  But  the  army  knew  nothing  about  it.  Of  course  it 
had  to  come  out  at  last.    When  we  came  to  Tarsus,  the  men 


lyO  CALLIAS. 

had  to  be  told.  If  we  were  going  to  act  against  the  Cicilian 
mountaineers,  now  was  the  time.  If  not,  wliy  had  we  t)een 
brouglit  so  far  ?  When  the  tnitli  was  known  there  was  a 
frightful  uproar.  The  men  declared  that  they  would  go 
back.  It  was  madness,  they  said,  for  a  few  thousand  men  to 
march  against  the  Great  King.  For  four  days  I  thought  all 
was  lost.  Clearchus  and  Cyrus  managed  admirably.  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  it  some  day.  Meanwhile  it  is  enough  to 
say  that  all  is  settled.  The  men  have  changed  their  tone 
completely.  They  talk  of  nothing  but  ransacking  the 
treasuries  of  the  King,  and  Cyrus  is  quite  magnificent  in  his 
promises.  He  gives  a  great  banquet  to  the  oflQcers  to-night. 
I  am  going  with  Proxenus,  who  is  my  special  friend  among 
the  generals,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  can  take  you. 
Cyrus,  I  assure  you,  is  a  man  worth  knowing,  and,  though 
we  should  call  him  a  barbarian,  worth  serving." 

The  Persian  prince,  when  Calhas  came  to  make  his  ac- 
quaintance, bore  out,  and  more  than  bore  out,  the  high 
character  which  Xenophon  had  given  of  him.  A  more 
princely  man  in  look  and  bearing  never  lived.  That  he  was 
a  stem  ruler  was  well  known,  but  his  subjects  needed  stern 
methods;  but  for  courtesy  and  generosity  he  could  not  be 
matched,  and  he  had  that  genial  manner  which  makes 
these  qualities  current  coin  in  the  market  of  the  world.  He 
was  of  unusual  stature,  his  frame  well  knit  and  well  propor- 
tioned, and  his  face,  though  sUghtly  disfigured  by  scars 
which  he  had  received  in  early  hfe  in  a  fierce  death  struggle 
with  a  bear,  singularly  handsome.  Proxenus  introduced 
his  friend's  friend  as  a  young  Athenian  who  had  come  to 
put  his  sword  at  his  disposal,  and  Cyrus  at  once  greeted 
him  with  that  manner  of  friendliness  and  even  comradeship 
which  made  him  so  popular.  At  the  same  time  he  made 
some  complimentary  remark  about  Athens,  saying  that  the 


CALLIAS.  191 

Athenians  had  been  formidable  enemies,  and  would  here- 
after, he  hoped,  be  valuable  friends. 

The  banquet  could  not  fa|l,  imder  such  circiunstances,  of 
being  a  great  success.  Everyone  was  in  the  highest  spirits,  and 
when  Cyrus,  in  thanking  his  guests  for  their  company, 
said  that  though  Greece  and  Persia  had  been  enemies  in  the 
past  they  would  be  firm  friends  in  the  futvire,  he  was  greeted 
with  a  burst  of  tumultuous  applavise. 

The  next  day  the  army  set  out,  their  last  remaining 
scruples  dispelled  by  an  increase  of  pay.*  There  was  still  a 
certain  reserve  in  speaking  about  the  object  of  the  campaign 
but  everyone  knew  that  it  was  directed  against  the  Great 
King.  Two  days'  march  took  them  to  Issus,  a  town  destined 
to  become  famous  in  later  days,  f  The  difficult  pass  of  the 
Cicilian  Gate  was  found  unguarded.  About  a  month  later 
the  ford  of  the  Euphrates  at  ThapsacusJ  was  reached. 
Then  all  disguise  was  thrown  off.  Cyrus  was  marching 
against  his  brother,  and  he  would  give  each  man  a  bonus  of 
a  year's  pay  when  he  had  reached  Babylon. 

So  the  long  and  tedious  march  went  on.  The  King  made 
no  signs  of  resistance.  Line  after  line  of  defence  was  found 
unguarded.  At  last,  just  ten  weeks  after  the  army  had 
marched  out  of  Tarsus,  a  Persian  horseman  attached  to 
Cyrus'  person,  came  galloping  up  with  the  news,  which  he 
shouted  out  in  Greek  and  Persian,  "  The  King  is  coming 
with  a  great  army  ready  for  battle." 

Something  like  a  panic  followed,  for  the  invaders  had  al- 
most begun  to  think  that  they  would  not  have  to  fight. 
Cyrus  sprang  from  the  carriage  in  which  he  had  been  riding, 
donned  his  corslet,  and  mounted  his  charger;  the  Greeks  rushr 

ed  to  the  wagons  in  which  they  had  deposited  their  armor 

*  Krom  one  daiic  to  one  daric  and  a  half  per  month,  S6  to  f7.dO. 
+  For  the  second  of  the  gretit  victories  of  Alexander, 
j  Thipsacb  or  "  The  Passage." 


192  CALLIAS. 

and  weapons,  and  prepared  themselves  hastily  for  battle. 

By  mid-day  all  was  ready.  Clearchus  was  in  command  of 
the  right  wing,  which  consisted  of  the  heavy-armed 
Greeks,  and  rested  on  the  Euphrates;  the  light-armed 
Greeks,  with  some  Paphlagonian  cavalry,  stood  in  the 
center;  on  the  left  were  the  Persians  under  Ariseus,  Cyrus' 
second  in  command.  The  extreme  left  of  all  was  occupied 
by  Cyrus  Imnself  with  his  body  guard  of  six  hundred  horse- 
men. All  wore  cuirasses,  cuisses  and  helmets;  but  Cyrus, 
wishing  to  be  easily  recognized,  rode  bareheaded. 

It  was  afternoon  before  the  enemy  came  in  sight.  First, 
a  white  cloud  of  dust  became  visible;  then  something  like 
a  black  paU  spread  far  and  wide  over  the  plain,  with  now 
and  then  a  spear  point  or  bronze  helmet  gleaming  through 
the  darkness.  Silently  the  huge  host  advanced,  its  left  on 
the  river,  its  right  far  overlapping  Cyrus'  left,  so  great  was 
its  superiority  in  numbers.  "Strike  at  the  center,"  said 
the  Prince  to  Clearchus,  as  he  rode  along  the  line,  "  then 
our  work  will  be  done." 

He  knew  his  countrj^men;  the  King  himself  was  in  the 
center.  If  he  should  be  killed  or  driven  from  the  field,  vic- 
tory was  assured. 

The  hostile  lines  were  only  two  furlongs  apart,  when  the 
Greeks  raised  the  battle  shout,  and  charged  at  a  quick  pace, 
which  soon  became  a  run.  A  few  minutes  afterwards  the 
Persians  broke.  Their  front  line,  consisting  of  scythe-armed 
chariots,  for  the  most  part,  turned  and  drove  helter-skelter 
through  the  ranks  of  their  coimtrymen;  the  few  that 
charged  the  advancing  foe  did,  perhaps  attempted  to  do,  no 
harm.  The  ranks  were  opened  to  let  them  through,  and 
they  took  no  further  part  in  the  battle.  Anyhow  the 
Greeks  won  the  victory  without  losing  a  single  man. 

Meanwhile  the  King,  posted,  as  has  been  said,  in  the 


OALLIAS.  193 

center,  seeing  no  one  to  oppose  him,  advanced  as  If  he  would 
take  the  Greeks  on  their  flank.  Cyrus,  seeing  this,  charged 
with  his*  six  hundred,  and  broke  the  line  in  front  of  the 
King.  The  troopers  were  scattered  in  the  ardor  of  pursuit, 
and  the  Prince  was  left  alone  with  a  handful  of  men.  Even 
then  all  might  have  been  well  but  for  the  fit  of  ungoverna- 
ble rage  which  seized  him.  He  spied  his  brother  the  King 
in  the  throng,  and,  crying  out,  "  There  is  the  man,"  pressed 
furiously  towards  him.  One  blow  he  dealt  him,  piercing 
his  corslet,  and  making  a  sUght  wound.  Then  one 
of  the  King's  attendants  struck  Cyrus  with  a  javelin 
under  the  eye.  The  two  brothers  closed  for  a  moment 
in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle.  But  Cyrus  and  his  followers  were 
hopelessly  overmatched.  In  a  few  minutes  the  Prince  and 
eight  of  his  companions  were  stretched  on  the  ground. 
One  desperate  effort  was  made  to  save  him.  Artapates,  the 
closest  of  his  friends,  leaped  from  his  horse,  and  threw 
his  arms  around  his  body.  It  did  but  delay  the  fatal  blow 
for  the  briefest  space.      The  next  moment  Cyrus  was  dead. 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 

THE  BETKEAT. 

Seven  weeks  have  passed  since  the  catastrophe  recorded 
in  my  last  chapter.*  Curiously  enough  the  Greeks  had  re- 
turned to  their  camp  after  their  easily  won  victory  without 
any  suspicion  of  what  had  happened  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hattle  field.  They  wondered,  indeed,  that  Cyrus  neither 
came  nor  sent  to  congratulate  them  on  their  success,  but  the 
news  of  his  death  which  was  brought  to  them  next  morning- 
by  an  Ionian  Greek,  who  had  been  in  the  service  of  Cyrus, 
came  upon  them  like  a  thunderclap.  Then  had  followed  a 
period  of  indecision  and  perplexity.  So  long  as  they  had  to 
answer  insolent  messages  from  the  King  or  Tissa- 
phemes,  bidding  them  give  up  their  arms  and  be 
content  with  such  chance  of  pardon  as  they  might 
have,  their  course  was  plain.  To  such  demands  only 
one  answer  was  possible.  "We  will  ^ie  sooner  than  give 
them  up,"  had  been  the  reply  which  Cleanor  the  Arcadian, 
the  senior  officer,  had  made.  But  when  the  Persians  began 
to  treat,  when  they  agreed  upon  a  truce,  and  even  allowed 
the  Greeks  to  provision  themselves,  the  course  to  be  followed 
became  less  plain.  Tissaphernes  made  indeed  the  most 
liberal  offers.  "We  will  lead  you  back  to  Greece,"  he  said, 
"and  find  you  provisions  at  a  fair  price.      If  we  do  not 

*  The  battle  of  Cunaxa,  in  which  Cyrus  fell,  was  fought  on  Sept.  3d. 
Tlie  day  at  which  we  have  now  arrived  ig  Oct.  31st.' 


CALLIA8.  195 

furnish  them,  you  are  at  liberty  to  take  them  for  yourselves, 
only  you  must  swear  that  you  will  behave  as  if  you  were 
inarching  through  the  country  of  friends."  There  were 
-some  who  roundly  said  that  the  Greeks  had  best  have  no 
dealings  with  the  man;  he  was  known  to  be  treacherous 
ixnd  false;  this  was  only  his  way  of  luring  them  on  to  their 
death.  On  the  other  hand  it  was  difficult  to  refuse  terms  so 
advantageous.  It  was  possible  that  the  satrap,  though  not 
in  the  least  friendly,  was  genuinely  afraid,  and  would  be 
glad  to  get  rid  at  any  price  of  visitannts  so  unwelcome.  This 
was  the  common  opinion.  If  the  army  could  find  its  way 
home  without  fighting,  it  would  be  madness  to  reject  the 
chance.  For  many  days  past,  everything  had  gone  smoothly; 
relations  between  the  Greeks  and  Tissaphernes  seemed  to 
become  more  and  more  friendly.  Clearchus,  the  general, 
commanding  in  chief,  had  even  dined  with  the  satrap,  had 
been  treated  in  the  most  friendly  fashion,  and  had  now 
come  back  to  the  camp  with  a  proposition  from  him  for  a 
formal  conference  at  which  the  Greeks  were  to  be  repre- 
sented by  their  principal  generals.  Some  voices  were 
raised  against  this  proposal.  "  No  one  ever  trusted  Tissar 
phemes  without  repenting  it,"  was  the  sentiment  of  not  a 
few,  Xenophon  amongst  the  number.  But  the  opposition 
was  overruled.  Five  generals  and  twenty  inferior  officers 
proceeded  to  the  tent  of  Tissaphernes,  followed  by  a  troop  of 
.stragglers,  who  availed  themselves  of  the  favorable  oppor- 
tunity, as  they  thought  it,  of  marketing  within  the  enemy's 
lines. 

"  Callias,"  said  Xenophon  to  his  friend  on  the  morning  of 
this  eventful  day,  "  my  mind  misgives  me.  The  soothsayer 
tells  me  that,  though  the  sacrifices  have  been  generally 
favorable,  there  have  always  been  some  sinister  indications. 
And  certain  it  is  that  we  have  never  put  ourselves  so  com- 


196  CALLIAS. 

pletely  in  the  enemy's  power  as  we  have  this  day.  Tissa- 
phernes  has  only  to  say  the  word  and  our  most  skillful  lead- 
ers are  dead  men.    But,  hark,  what  is  that  ?  " 

A  cry  of  surprise  and  wrath  went  up  from  the  camp,  and 
the  two  Athenians  rushed  out  of  the  tent  in  which  they  had 
been  sitting,  to  ascertain  the  cause.  One  glance  was 
enough.  The  stragglers  were  hurrying  back  at  the  top  of 
their  speed  with  the  Persians  in  hot  pursuit.  Among  the 
foremost  of  the  fugitives  was  an  Arcadian  officer,  who,  fear- 
fully wounded  as  he  was,  managed  to  make  his  way  to 
the  camp.  "  To  arms  ! "  he  cried,  "  Clearchus  and  the  rest 
are  either  dead  or  prisoners."  Instantly  there  was  a  wild 
rush  for  arms.  Everyone  expected  that  the  next  moment 
would  bring  the  whole  Persian  army*  in  sight.  But  the 
King  and  his  satraps  knew  how  formidable  the  Greeks 
really  were.  As  long  as  they  had  a  chance  of  succeeding  by 
fraud,  they  would  not  use  force. 

Fraud  was  immediately  attempted.  Ariseus,  who  by  this 
time  had  made  his  peace  with  the  King,  rode  up  to  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  camp,  and  said,  "Let  the  Greeks 
send  some  one  that  is  in  authority  to  bear  a  message  from 
the  King."  The  veteran  Cleanor  accordingly  went  forward. 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,"  cried  Xenophon,  "  I  am  eager  to 
hear  what  has  become  of  my  friend  Proxenus.  Come  you, 
too,"  he  whispered  to  Callias. 

Ariseus  addressed  them :  "  Thus  saitla  the  King; 
Clearchus,  having  forsworn  himself  and  broken  the  truth, 
has  been  put  to  death.  Proxenus  and  Medon  are  honorably 
treated.  As  for  you,  the  King  demands  your  arms,  seeing 
that  they  belongeji  to  Cyrus,  who  was  his  slave." 

Cleanor's  answer  was  brief  and  emphatic,  "  Thou  villain, 
Ariseus,  and  the  rest  of  you,  have  you  no  shame  before  gods 
or  men,  that  you  betray  us  in  this  fashion,  and  make  friends 
with  that  perjurer  Tissaphernes  ?  " 


CALLIAS.  m 

Ariseus  could  only  repeat  that  Clearchus  was  a  traitor. 
"Then,"  cried  Xenophon,  "why  not  send  us  back  Proxen- 
us  and  Medon,  good  men  you  say,  who  would  advise  both 
you  and  us  for  the  best?  " 

To  this  no  answer  was  made;  and  the  party  slowly  made 
their  way  back  to  the  camp.  The  worst  had  happened. 
They  were  in  the  midst  of  their  enemies,  more  than  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  the  sea,  and  they  had  lost  their  leaders. 

The  two  Athenians,  who  shared  the  same  tent,  lay  down 
to  rest  at  an  early  hour.  It  still  wanted  some  time  to  mid- 
night, when  Xenophon  surprised  his  companion  by  sud- 
denly starting  up. 

"  I  believe,"  he  cried,  "  all  will  be  well  after  all.  I  have 
had  a  most  encouraging  dream." 

' '  What  was  it?"  asked  Callias. 

' '  I  dream  t, ' '  returned  the  other,  * '  that  I  was  at  home  and 
that  there  was  a  great  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning  and 
that  the  lightning  struck  the  house  and  that  it  blazed  up  all 
over."  • 

Calhas  stared.  "  But  that  does  not  sound  very  encoura- 
ging." 

"  Ah  !  but  listen  to  what  I  have  to  tell  you.  When 
Proxenus  asked  me  to  come  with  him  on  this  expedition,  I 
applied  to  Socrates  for  his  ad\dce.  '  Ask  the  god  at  Delphi,' 
he  said.  So  I  asked  the  god  but  not,  as  he  meant  me  to  do, 
whether  I  should  go  or  not,  but  to  what  gods,  if  I  went,  I 
should  sacrifice.  Well,  this  has  been  a  great  trouble  to  me, 
and  I  look  upon  this  dream  as  an  answer.  First — this  is 
the  encouragement — Zeus  shows  me  a  light  in  darkness. 
The  house  all  on  a  blaze,  I  take  it,  means  that  w;e  are  sur- 
rounded with  dangers." 

*'  May  it  turn  out  well,"  was  all  that  Callias  could  find  it  in 
his  heart  to  say.  But  if  he  was  tempted  to  <thlnk  meanly 
of  his  companion,  he  had  soon  reason  to  alter  his  opinion. 


lyS  CALLIAS. 

"  Whether  my  dream  means  what  I  think  or  anything 
else,"  Xenophon  went  on,  "we  must  act.  To  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  King  means  death,  and  death  in  the  most 
shameful  form.  And  yet  no  one  stirs  hand  or  foot  to  avoid 
it;  "we  lie  quiet,  as"  though  it  were  time  to  take  our  rest.  1 
shall  go  and  talk  to  my  comrades  about  it." 

The  first  thing  was  to  call  together  his  own  particular 
friends,  the  officers  of  Proxenus'  division.  He  found  them 
as  wakeful  as  himself. 

"Friends,"  he  said,  "we  must  get  out  of  the  King's 
clutches.  You  know  what  he  did  to  his  own  brother.  The 
man  was  dead;  but  he  must  nail  his  body  to  a  cross.  "What 
will  he  do,  think  you,  to  us  ?  No;  we  must  get  out  of  his 
reach.  But  how  ?  Not  by  making  terms  with  him.  That 
only  gives  him  time  to  hem  us  in  more  and  more  com- 
pletely. No;  we  must  fight  him;  and  we,  who  are  more 
enduring  and  brave  than  our  enemies,  have  a  right  to  hope 
that  we  shall  fight  to  good  purpose.  And  surely  the  gods 
will  help  us  rather  than  them.  For  are  they  not  faithless 
and  forsworn  ? 

"But,  if  we  are  to  fight,  we  must  have  leaders.'  Let  us 
choose  them  then.  As  for  me,  I  will  follow  another,  or,  if 
you  will  have  it  so,  I  will  lead  myself.  Young  I  am,  but  I 
am  at  least  of  an  age  to  take  care  of  myself." 

Then  there  was  a  loud  cry — "  Xenophon  for  general !" 
Only  one  voice  was  raised  in  protest,  that  of  a  captain,  who 
spoke  in  very  broad  Boeotian.  "  Escap>e  is  impossible;  we 
should  better  try  persuasion."  Such  was  the  burden  of  his 
speech. 

Xenophon  turned  on  him  fiercely.  "Escape  impossible  ! 
And  yet  you  know  what  the  King  did.  First  came  a 
haughty  command  that  we  should  give  up  our  arms.  When 
we  refused,  he  took  to  soft  words  and  cajolery.    He  is  afraid 


CALLIAS.  199 

of  us;  but  if  we  trust  to  persuasiou  we  are  lost."  Theu  turn- 
ing to  ttie  others,  he  cried,  "  Is  this  man  fit  to  be  a  captain  ? 
Make  him  a  bearer  of  burdens.  He  is  a  disgrace  to  the 
name  of  Greek." 

"  Greek,"  cried  an  Arcadian  captain,  "  he  is  no  Boeotian, 
nor  Greek  at  all.  He  is  a  Mysian  slave.  I  see  his  ears  are 
bored."    And  the  man  was  promptly  turned  out  of  camp. 

Not  a  moment  was  now  lost.  A  representative  body  of 
officers  from  the  whole  army  was  promptly  collected,  and 
Xenophon  was  asked  to  repeat  what  he  had  said  to  the  smaller 
gathering.  The  meeting  ended  in  the  election  of  five 
generals  to  replace  those  who  had  been  murdered.  Chiri- 
sophus,  a  Spartan,  made  the  sixth,  having  held  the  office 
before. 

The  day  was  now  beginning  to  dawn.  It  was  scarcely 
light  when  the  whole  army  assembled  in  obedience  to  a 
hasty  summons  which  had  been  sent  through  the  camp. 

Chirisophus  opened  the  proceedings.  "  We  have  fared 
ill,  fellow  soldiers,"  he  said,  "in  that  we  liave  been  robbed 
of  so  many  officers  and  have  been  deserted  by  our  allies. 
Still  we  must  not  give  in.  If  we  cannot  conquer,  at  least 
we  can  die  gloriously.  Anyhow  we  must  not  fall  alive  into 
the  hands  of  the  King." 

After  an  address  by  another  general,  Xenophon  stood  up. 
He  had  dressed  himself  in  his  best  apparel.  *'  Fine  clothes 
'will  suit  victory  best,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  if  I  di^,  let 
me  at  least  die  like  a  gentleman." 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "if  we  were  going  to  treat  with  the 
barbarians,  then,  knowing  how  faithless  they  are,  we  might 
well  despair;  but  if  we  mean,  taking  our  good  swords 
in  our  hands,  to  punish  them  for  what  they  have  done, 
and  to  secure  our  own  safety,  tlien  we  may  hope  for  the 
Ijest." 


»)0  ,      CALL  J  AS. 

At  this  point,  a  soldier  sneezed.  A  sneeze  was  a  lucky 
omen,  and  by  a  common  impulse  all  the  soldiers  bowed 
their  heads.    Xenophon  seized  the  opportunity. 

"I  spoke  of  safety,  gentlemen,  and  as  I  was  speaking, 
Zeus  the  Savior,  setit  us  an  omen  of  good  fortune.  Let  us 
therefore  vow  to  him  a  thank-offering  for  deliverance,  if  we 
ever  reach  our  native  country.  This  let  us  do  as  an  army; 
and  besides,  let  everyone  vow  to  offer  according  to  his  abil- 
ity in  return  for  his  own  safe  arrival." 

These  propositions  were  unanimously  accepted,  and  the 
hymn  of  battle  was  solemnly  sung  by  the  whole  army. 

"Now,"  said  the  speaker,  "we  have  set  ourselves  right 
with  the  gods,  who  will  doubtless  reward  our  piety,  while 
they  will  punish  these  peijurers  and  traitors  who  seek  to 
destroy  us." 

Then,  after  appealing  to  the  glorious  memories  of  the 
past,  when  the  Greeks,  fighting  against  overwhelming  odds, 
had  once  and  again  turned  back  the  tide  of  Persian  invasion, 
he  addressed  himself  to  deal  with  the  circumstances  of  the 
situation.  "  Our  allies  have  deserted  us;  but  we  shall  fight 
better  without  such  cowards.  We  have  no  cavalry;  but  bat- 
tles are  won  by  the  sword;  our  foes  will  have  the  better  only 
in  being  able  to  run  away  more  quickly.  No  market  will 
be  given  us;  but  it  is  better  to  take  our  food  than  to  buy  it. 
If  rivers  bar  our  way,  we  have  only  to  cross  them  higher 
up.  .Verily,  I  believe  that  not  only  can  we  get  away,  but 
that  if  the  King  saw  us  preparing  to  settle  here,  he  would  be 
glad  to  send  us  away  in  coaches  and  four,  so  terribly  afraid 
is  he  of  us. 

"  But  how  shall  we  go?  Let  us  burn  our  tents  and  all 
superfluous  baggage.  The  baggage  too  often  commands  the 
army.  That  is  the  first  thing  to  do.  Our  arms  are  our 
chiW  pk)8session.    If  we  use  them  aright,  everything  in  the 


VALLIAS.  201 

country  is  ours.  Let  us  march  in  a  hollow  square,  with  the 
baggage  animals  and  the  camp  followers  in  the  middle. 
And  let  us  settle  at  once  who  is  to  command  eaeli  section  of 
the  army." 

All  this  was  accepted  without  demur.  Chirisophus  was 
appointed  to  command  the  van,  Xenophon,  with  a  colleague, 
as  the  youngest  of  the  generals,  the  rear.  Practically  these 
two  divided  the  command  between  them. 

The  first  exj^erience  of  an  encounter  with  the  enemy  was 
not  reassuring;  in  fact  it  was  almost  disastrous.  Early  in 
the  first  day's  march,  one  Mithridates,  a  personage  well 
known  to  the  Greeks,  for  he  had  been  high  in  Cyrus'  confi- 
dence, rode  up  with  a  couple  of  hundred  horsemen  and 
twice  as  many  slingers  and  bowmen.  He  had  a  look  of 
coming  as  a  friend;  indeed,  earlier  in  that  day  he  had  come 
with  what  purported  to  t)e  a  conciliatory  message  from  Tis- 
saphernes.  But  on  arriving  within  a  moderate  distance  of 
the  Greeks  he  halted,  and  the  next  moment  there  was  a 
shower  of  bullets  and  arrows  from  the  slings  and  bows. 
The  Greeks  were  helpless.  They  suffered  severely,  but 
could  do  nothing  to  the  enemy  in  return.  The  Cretan 
archers  had  a  shorter  range  than  that  of  the  Persian  bows, 
and  the  javelin  could  not,  of  course,  come  any  where  near  the 
slingers.  At  last  Xenophon  gave  the  order  to  charge. 
Charge  the  men  did,  heavy-armed  and  light-armed  alike. 
Possibly  it  was  better  than  standing  still  to  be  shot  at.  But 
they  did  not  contrive  to  catch  a  single  man.  As  foot  sol- 
diers they  were  fairly  outpaced  ;  and  they  had  no  cavalry. 
Only  three  miles  were  accomplished  that  day,  and  the  army 
reached  the  villages  in  which  they  were  to  bivouac,  in  a 
state  of  great  despondency.  Unless  such  attacks  could  be 
resisted  with  better  success,  the  fate  of  the  army  was  sealed. 

Xenophon  was  severely  blamed  by  his  colleagues  for  his 


202  CALLIA8. 

action  iu  charging.  He  frankly  acknowledged  his  fault. 
"  I  could  not  stand  still,"  he  said,  "  and  see  the  men  falling 
round  me  without  striking  a  blow,  but  the  charge  did  no 
good.  We  caught  none  of  them,  and  we  did  not  find  it 
easy  to  get  back.  , Thanks  to  the  gods,  there  were  not  very 
many  of  them  ;  if  they  had  come  on  in  force,  we  must  have 
been  cut  to  pieces." 

After  a  short  silence,  he  addressed  his  colleagues  again. 
"We  are  at  a  great  disadvantage.  Our  Cretans  cannot 
shoot  so  far  as  their  Persian  archers  ;  and  our  hand  throw- 
ers are  useless  against  the  slingers.  As  for  the  foot  soldiers, 
no  man,  however  fleet  of  foot,  can  overtake  another  who  has 
a  bowshot's  start  of  him,  especially  as  we  cannot  push  the 
pursuit  far  from  the  main  body.  The  simple  truth  is  that  we 
must  have  slingers  and  horsemen  of  our  own,  I  know  that 
there  are  Rhodians  in  the  army  who  can  sling  leaden  bul- 
lets to  a  much  greater  distance  than  these  Persian  slings 
can  reach.  I  propose,  first,  that  we  find  out  who  among 
them  have  slings  of  their  own  ;  these  we  will  buy  at  the 
proper  value ;  if  any  know  how  to  plait  some  more,  we  will 
pay  them  the  proper  price  for  doing  it ;  the  slings  thus  ob- 
tained, we  shall  soon  get  a  corps  of  slingers  to  use  them. 
Give  them  some  advantage  and  they  will  enroll  themselves 
fast  enough.  Now  for  the  cavalry.  We  have  some  horses  I 
know.  There  are  some  iu  the  rear  guard  with  me  ;  there 
are  others  that  belonged  to  Clearchus ;  a  good  many  have 
been  taken  from  the  enemy,  and  are  being  used  as  baggage 
animals.  Let  us  take  the  pick  of  these  and  equip  them  for 
the  use  of  cavalry ;  we  shall  soon  have  some  very  capable 
horsemen  at  our  service." 

The  idea  was  promptly  carried  out.  That  very  night  a 
couple  of  hundred  slingers  were  enrolled,  and  the  next  day, 
which  was  spent  without  any  attempt  to  advance,  fifty 


CALLIAS.  '2f^ 

horsemen  passed  muster,  fairly  well-mounted  and  duly  fur- 
nished with  buff  jackets  and  cuirasses.  This  was  only  the 
first  of  many  instances  in  which  Xenophon  showed  the 
fertility  and  readiness  of  device  which  did  so  much  to  save 
the  army. 

The  very  next  day  the  new  forces  were  brought  into  ac- 
tion with  the  happiest  results.  Mithridates  came  up  again 
with  his  archers  and  slingers,  but  encountered  a  reception 
on  which  he  had  not  calculated.  The  cavalry  made  a  bril- 
liant charge,  cutting  down  a  number  of  the  infantry  and 
taking  prisoners  some  seventeen  horsemen.  At  the  end  of 
the  day's  march,  the  army  reached  the  Tigris.  Fourteen 
weeks  of  hard  and  perilous  marching  lay  before  them ;  but 
they  were  fairly  well-equipped  for  the  work.  I  shall  take 
an  account  of  some  of  the  principal  incidents  of  the  journey 
from  a  diary  kept  by  Callias,  who  acted  throughout  as  aid- 
de-camp  to  Xenoplion. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  DIARY. 

October  27.* — Our  new  corps  have  covered  themselves 
with  glory  to-day.  About  noon  Tissapherues  himself  ap- 
peared with  a  large  force  of  cavalry.  He  had  his  own  regi- 
ments with  him  ;  among  the  others  we  recognized  some  of 
Cyrus'  Persian  troops.  They  want,  I  suppose,  to  make  the 
Kling  forget  their  rebelUon.  The  satrap  did  not  wish  to 
come  to  close  quarters  ;  but  he  found  after  all  that  the  quar- 
ters were  closer  than  he  liked.  He  was  well  within  range ; 
and  as  his  men  were  posted  in  great  masses  every  arrow  and 
every  bullet  told.  It  would,  in  fact,  have  been  impossible 
to  miss,  with  such  a  mark  to  aim  at.  As  for  the  Persian 
archers  they  did  no  damage  at  all.  But  we  found  their  ar- 
rows very  useful.  Our  men  are  now  well-equipped,  for  we 
discovered  an  abundant  store  of  bow-strings  and  lead  for  the 
sling  bullets  in  the  villages, 

November  3. — Things  have  not  been  going  so  well  to-day. 

The  barbarians  occupied  a  post  of  vantage  on  our  route  and 

showered  down  darts,  stones,  and  arrows  upon  us  as  we 

passed.    Our  light-armed  were  easily  driven  in.    AVhen  the 

heavj-^-armed  tried  to  scale  the  height,  they  found  theclimb- 
*  For  convenience'  sake  I  have  translated  the  dates  of  the  Attic  yenr 
which  Callias,  of  course,  used  with  the  corresponding  days  in  our  recli- 
oning.  October  27  would  be  the  "  fltXh  day  of  the  middle  of  Boedro- 
mia."  Each  month  was  divided  into  three  portions,  often  days  each, 
respectively  called  beginning,  middle,  and  ending.  The  days  of 
the  last  were  reckoned  backwards.  If  this  month  had  twenty-nine  days 
only,  the  third  division  had  nine. 


CALLIAS.  205 

iug  very  hard  work,  and  of  course  the  enemy  were  gone  by 
the  time  that  they  reached  the  top.  Three  times  this  was 
done,  and  I  was  never  more  pleased  in  my  life  than  when  at 
last  we  got  to  the  end  of  our  day's  march.  Eight  surgeons 
are  busy  attending  to  the  wounded,  of  whom  there  is  a  ter- 
rible number.  We  are  going  to  stop  here  three  days,  Xeno- 
phon  tells  me.  Meanwhile  we  are  in  a  land  of  plenty. 
There  are  granaries  full  of  wheat,  and  cellars  of  wine,  and 
barley  enough  to  supply  our  horses  if  we  had  fifty  times  as 
many.  Hereafter  we  are  to  follow  a  new  plan.  As  soon  as 
we  are  attacked,  we  halt.  To  march  and  fight  at  the  same 
time  puts  us  at  a  disadvantage.  And  we  are  to  try  to  get 
as  far  in  advance  as  possible. 

November  9. — We  had  our  three  days'  rest,  and  then 
three  days'  quick  marching.  To-day,  however,  there  haa 
been  a  smart  brush  with  the  enemy.  They  had  occupied  a 
ridge  commanding  our  route,  which  just  then  desceude«l 
from  the  hills  into  the  plain.  Chirisophus  sent  for  Xeno- 
phon  to  bring  his  light-armed  to  the  front.  This,  of  course, 
was  a  serious  thing  to  do,  as  Tissaphernes  was  not  far  from 
our  rear.  Xenophon  accordingly  galloped  to  the  front  to 
confer  with  his  colleague.  "Certainly,"  he  said,  when  he 
saw  how  the  enemy  was  posted,  *'  these  fellows  must  be  dis- 
lodged, but  we  can't  uncover  our  rear.  You  must  give  me 
some  troops,  and  I  will  do  my  best."  Just  at  that  moment 
he  caught  sight  of  a  height  rising  al)ove  us  just  on  our  right 
— he  haa  a  true  general's  eye — and  saw  that  it  gave  an  ap- 
proach to  the  enemy's  position.  "That  is  the  place  for  us 
to  take,"  he  cried.  "  If  we  get  that,  the  barbarians  can't  stay 
where  they  are."  As  soon  as  the  troops  were  told  off  for 
service,  we  started  ;  and  lo  !  a.s  soon  as  we  were  off,  the  bar-  . 
barians  seeing  what  we  were  after  started  too.  It  was  a  race 
who  should  get  there  first.    Xenophon  rode  beside  the  men, 


206  CALL  I  AS. 

and  urged  them  on.  "Now  for  it,  brave  sirs!"  he  cried. 
"  'Tis  for  Hellas  !  'Tis  for  wives  and  cliildreu  !  Win  the  race, 
and  you  will  march  en  in  peace  !  Now  for  it !"  The  men 
did  their  best,  but  of  course  it  was  hard  work.  I  never  had 
harder  in  my  life.  At  last  a  grumbling  fellow  in  the  ranks 
growled  out,  "  We  are  not  on  equal  terms,  Xenophon.  You 
are  on  horseback,  and  I  have  got  to  carry  my  shield."  In  a 
moment  Xenophon  was  off  his  horse.  He  snatched  the  fel- 
low's shield  from  him,  and  marched  on  with  the  rest.  That 
was  hard  work  indeed,  for  he  had  his  horseman's  cuirass 
on  ;  still  he  kept  up.  Then  the  men  fell  on  the  grumbler. 
They  abused  him,  pelted  him,  and  cuffed  him,  till  he  was 
glad  enough  to  take  his  shield  again.  Then  Xenophon 
re-mounted,  and  rode  on  as  before  as  far  as  tlie  horse 
could  go.  Then  he  left  him  tethered  to  a  tree,  and  went 
on  foot.  In  the  end  we  won  the  race  ;  and  the  barbarians 
left  the  way  clear. 

November  10. — We  had  a  great  disappointment  to-day. 
The  route  lay  either  across  a  river  which  was  too  deep  to 
ford^we  tried  it  with  our  spears,  and  could  find  no  bottom 
— or-  through  a  mountainous  region  inhabited  by  a  set  of 
fierce  savages  whom  the  King  has  never  been  able  to  sub- 
due. He  once  sent  an  army  of  a  hundred  thousand  men 
among  them,  they  say,  and  not  a  single  soldier  ever  came 
back  !  First  we  considered  about  crossing  the  river.  A 
Rhodian  had  a  grand  plan,  he  said,  for  taking  the  army 
across.  He  would  sell  it  for  a  talent.  I  must  confess,  by  the 
way,  that  I  am  more  and  more  disgusted  by  the  manner  in 
which  everything  is  for  sale.  Citizen  soldiers  think  of  the 
common  good,  though,  it  must  be  confessed,  they  are  not  so 
sturdy  in  action  as  these  fellows  ;  mercenaries  think  only  of 
the  private  purse.  However,  the  Rhodian  never  got  his 
talent.     His  plan  was  clever  enougli,  making  floats  of  skins, 


CALLIAS.  207 

but  impracticable,  seeing  that  the  enemy  occupied  the  other 
shore  in  force.  Nothing,  then,  remained  for  it  but  to  take 
to  the  mountains.  We  must  do  our  best  to  fight  our  way 
through  them,  if  tiie  mountaineers  won't  be  friends.  This 
done,  we  shall  find  ourselves  in  Armenia ;  once  there,  we 
shall  be  able  to  go  anywhere  we  please. 

November  14. — We  have  had  three  awful  days.  The 
Carduchians — so  they  call  the  barbarians — are  as  hostile 
and  as  fierce  as  they  can  be.  It  seems  unreasonable,  for 
they  must  hate  the  Great  King  as  much  as  we  do.  Still 
they  will  not  listen  to  our  overtures  for  friendly  intercourse, 
but  keep  up  an  incessant  attack.  To-day  there  was  very 
near  being  a  positive  disaster.  We  in  the  rear  guard  had, 
of  course,  the  worst  of  it.  Generally  when  we  find  our  work 
particularly  hard  we  pass  on  the  word  to  the  van,  and  they 
slacken  their  pace  ;  otherwise  we  should  get  divided  from 
the  main  army.  To-day  no  attention  was  paid  to  our  mes- 
sages ;  Chirisophus  did  nothing  but  send  back  word  that 
we  must  hurry  on.  Consequently  our  march  became  some- 
thing very  like  a  rout,  and  we  lost  two  of  our  best  men. 
At  the  first  halt  Xenophon  rode  to  the  front. 

"  Why  this  hurry?"  he  asked.  "  It  has  cost  us  two  men, 
and  we  had  to  leave  their  bodies  behind."  "  See  you  that?" 
saJd  Chirisophus,  and  he  pointed  to  a  height  straight  be- 
fore us,  which  was  strongly  held  by  the  enemy.  "  I  wanted 
to  get  there  first,  for  the  guide  says  that  there  is  no  other 
way."  "  Says  he  so?"  said  Xenophon.  "  I^et  us  hear  what 
my  fellows  have  to  say.  I  laid  an  ambush,  you  must  know, 
and  caught  two  barbarians.  They  would  be  useful,  I 
thought,  as  guides !"  The  two  were  brought  up  and  ques- 
tioned. "Is  there  any  other  way  than  what  we  see?" 
'*  No,"  said  the  first.  Try  all  we  could,  he  would  make  no 
other    answer.       At   last   Chirisophus    had    hini    killed. 


208  CALLIAS. 

"Now,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  other,  "  can  you  tell  us  any- 
thing more?"  "O  yes,"  said  the  man,  "  there  is  another 
way,  and  one  that  horses  can  pass  over.  But  the  other 
would  not  say  anything  about  it,  because  he  had  kinsfolk 
living  near  it,  and  was  afraid  that  you  would  do  them  an 
injury."  Poor  fellow!  I  was  sorry  for  him,  when  I  knew 
how  loyal  he  had  been.  But  I  don't  know  what  else  could 
have  been  done.  The  second  man  told  us  that  there  was  a 
height  which  we  must  occupy  if  we  would  make  the  new 
route  practicable.  Two  thousand  men  have  set  off  to  get 
hold  of  it.     If  they  fail,  we  shall  be  in  terrible  straits. 

November  16. — The  army  is  safe  for  the  present,  but 
some — I  among  the  number — have  had  a  very  narrow  es- 
cape. The  two  thousand  found  their  work  very  much 
harder  than  at  flrst  they  thought  it  was  going  to  be.  They 
took  the  first  height  without  any  difficulty,  and  fancied 
they  had  done  all  that  was  wanted.  But  there  were  no  less 
than  three  heights  beyond,  and  each  of  these  had  to  be 
stormed.  My  part  in  the  business  was  this.  Xenophon 
thought  that  the  second  of  the  four  heights — there  were  four 
in  all — ought  to  be  held  permanently  till  our  army  had 
passed.  Some  two  hundred  men  were  told  off  for  this  duty, 
and  I  volunteered  to  be  one  of  them.  All  of  a  sudden  we 
found  ourselves  attacked  by  a  whole  swarm  of  mountaineers. 
They  outnumbered  us  by  at  least  ten  to  one.  It  was  a  case 
for  running,  for  there  was  really  no  position  that  we  could 
hold.  But  runping  was  no  easy  matter.  Our  only  chance 
was  to  climb  down  a  very  steep  mountain  side  to  the  pass 
below,  where  the  last  columns  of  the  van  guard  were  just 
making  their  way.  Some  of  the  men  did  not  like  to  try  it ; 
and,  indeed,  it  did  look  desperately  dangerous.  While  they 
were  hesitating,  tlie  barbarians  were  upon  them.  As  for 
myself,  I  felt  that  I  would  sooner  break  my  neck  than  fall 


Q'ALLIAS.  209 

into  the  enemy's  hands,  so  I  started  ofFat  full  pace,  and  was 
safe.  Nor  do  I  think  that  any  who  followed  my  example 
were  seriously  hurt,  though  some  got  very  nasty  falls.  Those 
who  stayed  behind  were  killed  to  a  man.  Just  now  we  are 
in  comfortable  quarters.  "Wine  is  in  such  plenty  here- 
abouts that  positively  the  people  keep  it  in  great  cisterns. 

November  19. — ^We  have  crossed  the  Centrltes,  which  is 
the  Eastern  branch  of  the  Tigris. 

November  30. — ^The  march  through  Armenia  has  been 
on  the  whole  as  pleasant  as  we  had  hoped.  The  Lieutenant 
Governor,  one  Tiribazus,  made  an  agreement  with  our  gen- 
erals that  he  would  do  us  no  harm,  if  we  would  not  burn 
the  houses,  but  content  ourselves  with  taking  such  provi- 
sions as  we  wanted.  Four  days  ago,  we  had  a  heavy  fall  of 
snow,  and  the  general  thought  it  as  well  to  billet  out  the 
army  ill  the  villages,  which  are  very  thick  in  these  parts. 
There  was  no  enemy  in  sight,  and,  as  we  had  no  tents,  biv- 
ouacking in  the  open  would  be  neither  pleasant  nor  safe. 
We  all  enjoyed  it  vastly,  particularly  as  the  villages  were 
fall  of  good  things,  oxen,  and  sheep,  and  wine,  some  of  ttie 
very  best  I  ever  tasted,  and  raisins,  and  vegetables  of  all 
kinds.  But  after  the  first  night  we  had  an  alarm.  A  great 
army  was  reported  in  sight ;  and  certainly  there  were 
watchfires  in  every  direction.  The  generals  thereupon  de- 
tennined  to  bring  the  army  together  again,  and  to  bivouac 
on  the  plain.  The  weather  too,  promised  to  be  fine.  But  in 
the  night  there  was  another  heavy  snow  fall,  so  heavy  that  it 
covered  us  all  up.  It  was  not  uncomfortable  lying  there  un- 
der the  snow  ;  in  fact,  it  felt  quite  warm  ;  but  of  course  it 
was  not  safe.  I  have  heard  of  people  going  to  sleep  imder 
such  circumstances  and  not  waking  up  again.  Anyhow 
Xenophon  set  the  example  of  getting  up,  and  setting  to 
work  splitting  wood.    Before  long  we  were  all  busy.    But 


210  CALL  J  AS. 

there  was  no  more  bivouacking  In  the  open.  We  went  to 
the  villages  again  ;  and  some  foolish  fellows  who  had  wan- 
tonly set  their  houses  on  fire  were  now  punished  for  their 
folly. 

Decembeb  8. — The  weather  becomes  colder  and  colder, 
and  is  our  worst  enemy  now.  The  other  day  there  was  a 
cutting  north  wind,  which  drifted  the  show  till  it  was  more 
than  six  feet  deep  in  places.  Xenophon,  whose  faith  and 
piety  are  admirable,  suggested  a  sacrifice  to  the  north  wind. 
This  was  made ;  and  certainly  the  weather  did  begin  to 
abate  shortly  afterwards.  The  doubters  say  that  the  wind 
always  does  go  down  after  a  time.  These  are  matters  on  which 
I  do  not  pretend  to  judge;  but  I  do  see  that  Xenophon 's 
pious  belief  makes  him  very  cheerful  and  courageous. 
The  day  before  yesterday  many  of  our  men  were  afliicted. 
what  with  the  long  march  and  what  with  the  cold,  with  a 
sort  of  ravenous  hunger.  They  fell  down,  and  either  would 
not,  or  could  not,  move  a  step  forward.  At  first  we  did  not 
know  what  was  the  matter  with  them ;  but  then  some  one 
who  had  campaigned  before  in  cold  countries  suggested  the 
real  cause.  When  we  gave  them  a  little  food  we  found  that 
they  recovered.  Yesterday  we  nearly  lost  a  number  of  men 
who  were  simply  overpowered  with  the  cold.  The  enemy 
was  close  behind,  and  we  tried  to  raise  th,e  poor  fellows  up : 
but  they  would  not  stir.  "  Kill  us,"  they  said,  "  but  leave 
us  alone."  They  were  simply  stupid  with  cold.  All  that 
could  be  done  was  to  frighten  the  enemy  away.  On  the 
barbarians  came,  till  the  rear  guard,  who  were  lying  in  am- 
bush, dashed  out  upon  them,  and  at  the  same  time  the  sick 
men  shouted  as  loud  as  they  could,  and  rattled  their  spears 
against  their  shields.  The  enemy  fled  in  a  hurry,  and  we 
saw  and  heard  no  more  of  them.  But  what  would  have 
happened  if  they  had  persisted,  is  more  than  I  can  say.  The 


CALLIAS.  211 

whole  army  was  deruoralized  with  the  cold.  The  rneu  lay 
down  as  they  could  with  their  cloaks  round  them.  There 
was  not  a  single  guard  placed  anywhere.  As  it  was,  no 
harm  was  done ;  and  in  the  afternoon  to-day  the  sick  men 
were  brought  safe  into  good  quarters.  We  are  now  in  excel- 
lent quarters,  with  all  that  we  could  wish  to  eat  and  drink. 
December  9. — ^Just  as  I  had  finished  my  entries  yester- 
day an  Athenian  with  whom  I  have  struck  up  a  great 
friendship  asked  me  to  come  with  him  on  an  expedition. 
His  name  is  Polycrates,  and  he  is  the  captain  of  a  company. 
'  Let  us  raid  that  village,"  he  said,  **  before  the  people  have 
time  to  get  away.''  So  we  did,  and  we  had  a  fine  catch. 
We  laid  hands  on  the  \illagers  and  their  head  man.  With 
the  head  man  was  his  daughter  who  had  been  married  only 
eight  days  before.  Her  husband  was  out  hare-hunting,  and 
so  escaped.  The  village  was  a  curious  place.  All  the 
houses  were  underground  ;  beasts  and  men  lived  there  to- 
gether, the  beasts  entering  by  a  sloping  way,  the  men  by  a 
ladder.  There  were  great  stores  of  barley,  and  wheat,  and 
green  stuff  of  all  kinds.  The  drink  was  barley  wine,  which 
they  keep  in  great  bowls.  You  have  to  suck  it  up  by  a  reed. 
It  is  very  strong.  As  to  the  flavor  I  feel  a  little  doubtful. 
To-day  Xenophou  has  been  taking  the  head  man,  whom  he 
had  to  sup  with  him  last  night,  all  round  the  camp,  by 
which  I  mean  the  villages,  for  the  men  are  encamped  in 
them.  At  Chirisophus' quarters  there  was  a  strange  sight. 
The  men  were  feasting  with  wisps  of  hay  round  their  heads, 
for  lack  of  flowers ;  and  Armenian  boys,  in  the  costume  of 
their  country,  were  waiting  on  them.  Everything  of  course 
had  to  be  explained  by  signs,  for  neither  soldiers  nor  waiters 
knew  a  word  of  each  other's  language.  Xenophon  gave  the 
head  man  his  old  charger,  which  Indeed  was  pretty  well 
worn  out  with  marching,  and  took  for  himself  and  his  offl- 


212  CALL  I  AS. 

cers  »  number  of  youug  borses  which  were  going  to  be  sent, 
we  were  told,  as  part  of  the  King's  tribute. 

December  27. — Notliing  of  much  moment  has  happened, 
except  it  be  a  quaiTel,  the  first  that  has  taken  place — ^and  I 
devoutly  hope  the  last — between  our  generals.  After  rest- 
ing in  the  villages  for  a  week,  we  started  again,  taking  the 
head  man  with  us  as  a  guide.  If  he  did  this  duty  properly, 
he  was  to  be  allowed  to  depart  and  to  take  his  son  with  him, 
for  he  had  a  young  son  in  his  company.  All  the  rest  of  his 
family  were  safe  in  his  own  village  with  a  very  handsome 
lot  of  presents.  At  the  end  of  the  third  day  Chirisophus 
got  into  a  great  rage  because  the  head  man  had  not  taken 
them  to  any  village.  The  man  declared  that  there  was  no 
village  near.  But  Chirisophus  would  not  listen,  and 
struck  the  man.  The  next  night  he  i-au  away.  Xenophon 
was  veiy  angry.  "  You  ought  not  to  have  struck  him,"  he 
said  ;  "but  having  struck  him,  you  certainly  ought  to  have 
kept  a  doubly  strict  guard  on  him." 

December  30. — ^We  have  crossed  the  river  Phasis,  and  got 
through  what  is,  I  hope,  our  last  difficult  pass.  I  have  not 
time  to  write  about  it ;  but  I  must  record  an  amusing  little 
controversy  that  took  place  between  our  two  generals.  It 
shows  anyhow  that  they  have  made  up  their  quarrel. 
Xenophon  had  been  insisting  that  they  must  do  as  much  as 
they  could  by  craft,  and  had  been  speaking  of  stealing  some- 
where at  night,  s<ea^i»S' a  march,  and  so  forth.  Then  he 
went  on,  "  But  why  do  I  talk  about  stealing  in  your  pres- 
ence Chirisophus,  for  you  Spartans  are  experts  in  the  art. 
You  practice  it  I  am  told,  from  your  youth  up.  It  is  honor- 
able among  you  to  take  anything  except  what  the  law  for- 
bids. But  to  encourage  you  and  to  make  you  master 
thieves  you  get  a  whipping  if  you  are  found  out.  I  must 
not  therefore  presume  to  instruct  you  about  stealing'."  "Nay," 


CALLIAS.  213 

replied  the  other,  "  you  have  the  best  possible  right  to  do  it. 
You  Athenians,  I  ana  told,  are  wonderfully  clever 
hands  at  stealing  the  public  money  and  the  best  men 
among  you  do  it  the  most.  No  ;  we  Spartans  must  yield  to 
you."  In  the  end  the  pass  was  carried  without  much  loss. 
January  3. — For  several  days  we  have  been  on  very 
short  commons.  The  Taochi,  through  whose  country  we 
are  passing,  have  collected  all  their  possessions,  alive  and 
dead,  into  strong  places.  At  last  we  felt  that  something 
had  to  be  done,  for  we  were  simply  starving.  Accordingly, 
when  we  came  about  noon  to-day  to  one  of  these  strong- 
holds which  happened  to  he  directly  on  our  route,  Chiri- 
sophusmade  up  his  mind  to  take  it.  It  could  be  seen  to  be 
full  of  flocks  and  herds  besides  a  mixed  crowd  of  men, 
women  and  children.  First  one  regiment  went  up  against 
it ;  then  a  second  ;  then  a  third.  They  could  do  nothing 
with  it ;  the  slingers  and  archers,  which  were  the  only 
troops  we  could  use,  made  no  impression  at  all.  Just  then 
Xenophon  came  up  with  the  rear  guard,  I  being  close  be- 
liind  him.  "You  have  come  just  in  the  nick  of  time  my 
friend,"  said  Chirisophus,  "we  must  take  this  place  or 
starve."  "  But  what,"  Xenophon  asked,  "  is  to  hinder  our 
simply  walking  in  ?  "  Chirisophus  answered,  "  You  see  that 
one  narrow  path,  that  is  the  only  way  of  approaching 
the  place.  Wheneyer  anyone  attempts  to  go  by  it,  these  fel- 
lows roll  down  huge  masses  of  rock  from  the  crag  up  there," 
and  he  pointed  to  a  cliff  that  overhung  the  plain.  "  See 
what  has  happened  to  some  of  my  poor  fellows  who  were 
unlucky  enough  to  get  in  the  way  !"  And  sure  enough  there 
was  one  man  with  one  leg  broken  and  another  with  bothi, 
and  a  third  with  his  ribs  crushed  in.  "  But,"  said  my  own 
general,  "  when  these  fellows  have  expended  their  ammu- 
nition— and  they  can't  have  a  perpetual  supply  of  it — there 


214  CALLIAS. 

will  be  nothing  else  to  hinder  our  going  in.  I  can  only- 
see  a  very  few  men,  and  of  these  not  more  than  two  or  three 
are  armed.  As  for  the  distance  that  we  have  to  get  across,  it 
cannot  be  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards ;  and  two- 
thirds  of  this  are  covered  at  intervals  by  great  pine  trees. 
As  long  as  we  are  among  these,  stones  cannot  hurt  us. 
These  past,  there  are  only  fifty  yards  more  to  be  crossed." 
"  Very  good,"  said  Chirisophus,  "  but  the  moment  we  get 
near,  the  fire  of  stones  begins  again."  "All  the  better," 
said  Xenophon,  "the  hotter  their  fire,  the  quicker  the 
enemy  will  use  up  their  ammunition.  However,  let  us 
begin  by  picking  out  the  place  where  the  run  across  the  open 
space  will  be  shortest." 

First  we  occupied  the  trees.  I  had  the  luck,  by  special 
favor  of  Xenophon,  to  be  among  them.  We  were  only 
seventy,  for  no  more  could  find  proper  shelter  behind  the 
pines.  Then  one  of  us  came  forward  a  yard  or  two  from  under 
cover  of  the  pines.  No  sooner  did  the  Taochi  see  him  than 
they  sent  down  a  vast  quantity  of  stones.  Before  they 
reached  him  he  was  under  cover  again.  This  he  did  several 
times  ;  and  every  time  a  wagon-load  of  rocks,  at  the  very 
least,  must  have  been  whizzing  and  whistling  down  the 
slope.  Before  long,  however,  the  ammunition  gave  signs  of 
not  holding  out.  As  soon  as  Agasias,  an  Arcadian  from 
Lake  Stymphalus,  perceived  this,  he  r^  forward  at  full 
speed.  The  man  who  had  been  amusing  himself  with  the 
rocks,  caught  hold  of  his  shield  as  he  i^an  by.  Then  two 
other  men  started.  Altogether  it  was  a  splendid  race,  and 
curiously  enough  not  another  stone  was  thrown.  Then  the 
rest  of  us  followed.  But  when  I  saw  the  horrible  thing  that 
ensued,  I  was  inclined  to  be  sorry  that  I  had  anything  to 
do  with  it.  The  women  threw  their  children  over  the  cliflf, 
and  then  threw  themselves  after  them,  and  the  men  did  the 


GALLIAS.  -  215 

same.  I  caught  hold  of  one  man  to  stop  him,  but  he  wrig- 
gled out  of  my  grasp,  and  threw  himself  over  the  top.  It 
was  well  for  me  that  he  did  so  or  else  I  might  have  fared  as 
^neas  of  Stymphalns  did.  He  saw  a  man  very  finely 
dressed  just  about  to  throw  himself  over,  and  tried  to  hold 
him.  The  man  did  not  try  to  get  away,  but  clasped  ^neas 
tightly  in  his  amis.  The  next  moment  both  had  fallen 
headlong  over  the  edge.  Of  course  they  were  both  killed. 
We  took  very  few  prisoners,  but  flocks  and  herds  as  many 
as  we  wanted  and  more. 

January  26. — The  marching  has  been  easy  enough  on  the 
whole,  though  we  have  met  with  the  bravest  enemies  that 
we  have  yet  come  across,  the  Chalybes,  they  are  called. 
They  did  not  haug  on  our  rear,  taking  care  never  to  fight 
unless  they  had  some  vantage  ground,  but  met  us  fairly 
face  to  face.  They  were  not  as  well  armed  as  we.  Indeed, 
they  had  no  armor  on  the  body  except  cuirasses  of  linen. 
Their  chief  weapon  was  a  very  long  and  clumsy  spear. 
Nevertheless  they  made  a  good  fight  of  it ;  and  if  they  did 
kill  a  man  they  cut  his  head  off"  directly  with  a  short  sabre 
that  they  carried  at  their  waists.  We  got  nothing  but  hard 
knocks  here.  All  the  property  of  the  country  was  stored 
away  in  strongholds ;  still  what  we  got  from  the  Taochi  has 
lasted  us  up  to  this  time,  and  will  supply  us  for  some  days 
to  come.  The  country  of  the  Chalybes  passed,  we  came  to  the 
city,  the  first,  by  the  way,  that  we  have  seen.  It  seemed 
very  populous  and  rich,  and  its  governor  was  extremely 
civil.  He  gave  us  a  guide  who  told  us  the  best  news  that 
we  had  heard  for  a  long  time.  "  Within  five  days  you  shall 
see  the  sea,"  he  said.  "  If  I  fail,  my  life  shall  be  the  forfeit." 
According  to  this  we  ought  to  see  it  to-morrow. 

January  27. — ^We  have  seen  it  I  I  was  in  the  van  guard 
as  usual.    We  had  our  hands  full,  for  the  people  of  the 


216  CALLIAS. 

country  were  up  in  amis  against  ns.  Our  friend,  the  guide, 
had  been  very  urgent  with  us  to  ravage  and  burn  the 
country  ;  and  the  men  had  not  been  backward  in  following 
his  advice.  So  now  there  was  a  whole  swarm  of  enemies 
hanging  on  our  heels,  and  we  of  the  rear  guard  had  to  keep 
them  in  check.  All  of  a  sudden  we  heard  a  tremendous  up- 
roar. "There  is  another  attack  on  the. van,"  cried  Xeno- 
phon,  "this  looks  serious."  But  the  shouting  grew  louder 
and  nearer.  As  soon  as  a  company  came  up,  it  began 
racing  towards  the  shouters,  and  then  took  to  shouting 
itself.  Xenophon  mounted  his  horse  to  see  for  himself  what 
had  happened.  He  took  the  cavalry  with  him  in  ease  any- 
thing should  have  happened,  and  I  made  the  best  of  my  way 
after  them.  Presently  we  could  distinguish  the  words. 
The  men  were  shouting,  TJie  sea  !  The  sea  !  Then  every- 
body started  running,  rear  guard  and  all ;  even  the  very 
baggage  horses  were  taken  with  it  and  came  galloping  up. 
And,  sure  enough,  there  it  was,  right  before  our  eyes,  a 
glimpse  of  blue  in  the  distance  with  the  sunshine  upon  it. 
What  a  scene  it  was  !  We  all  fell  to  embracing  one  another  ; 
rank  was  forgotten ;  generals,  officers,  and  common  men  were 
friends.  Indeed  the  gods  could  not  have  given  to  our 
eyes  a  more  delightful  sight.  Presently  the  soldiers  fell  to 
erecting  a  great  cairn  of  stones.  On  this  they  put  skins  and 
staves  and  wicker  shields  that  we  had  taken  from  the 
enemy.  Of  course  the  guide  had  a  very  handsome  present 
from  the  common  store,  a  purse,  a  silver  bowl,  a  Persian 
dress,  and  ten  gold  pieces.  Then  he  begged  some  rings, 
and  got  not  a  few.  The  soldiers  were  ready  to  give  him 
anything. 

February  2. — ^We  have  passed  safely  through  another 
country.  The  people  were  drawn  out  in  order  of  battle 
when  the  luckiest  thing  happened,  saving,  I  doubt  not, 


CALL!  AN,  217 

many  lives.  One  of  the  men  came  up  to  Xenophon  and 
said:  "  I  think  I  know  the  language  these  people  talk.  I 
verily  beheve  that  it  is  my  own."  And  so  it  turned  out  to 
be.  The  man  had  been  a  slave  in  Athens.  He  explained 
to  them  that  we  did  not  wish  to  do  them  any  harm,  but 
simply  wanted  to  get  back  to  our  own  country.  Since  then 
it  has  been  peaceful.  The  people — Macrones  they  call 
themselves — have  been  as  helpful  as  possible,  making  roads 
for  us,  and  supplying  us  with  as  good  food  as  they  possessed. 
February  7. — Yesterday  I  really  thought  that  after  all 
that  I  had  gone  through,  I  was  going  to  die  of  eating  a 
mouthful  of  honey.  We  found  a  great  store  of  this  in  one 
of  the  Colchian  villages  that  we  came  to,  and  of  course  ate 
it  freely.  It  was  poisonous,  at  least  to  persons  not  used  to 
it.  I  know  that  I  was  desperately  ill  and  so  were  many  of 
my  comrades.  Happily  no  one  died.  We  reach  Trapezus 
to-morrow.  We  are  in  Greece  again.  Thanks  be  to  Zeus 
and  all  the  gods  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  THANKSGIVING. 

The  worst  severity  of  the  winter  was  over  when  the  army 
reached  Trapezus.  The  days  were  longer,  for  it  was  akeady 
halfway  between  the  winter  solstice  and  the  spring  eqidnox, 
and  though  the  nights  were  still  bitterly  cold,  the  sun  was 
daily  gaining  power.  Sometimes  a  breeze  from  the  west 
gave  to  the  air  quite  a  feeling  of  spring.  Still  Callias  was 
very  thankful  to  find  quarters  in  the  city.  He  discovered 
but  scarcely  with  surprise,  that  as  soon  as  he  returned  with- 
in the  circle  of  Greek  influence,  the  credentials  furnished 
him  by  Hippocles  made  life  much  smoother  for  him. 
Trapezus  was  the  very  farthest  outpost  of  civilization ;  it 
was  sX  least  nine  hundred  miles  from  Athens,  yet  the  name 
of  Hippocles  seemed  as  well  known  and  his  credit  as  good  as 
if  it  had  been  the  Piraeus  itself.  As  soon  as  permission 
could  be  obtained  to  enter  the  town — ^for  the  people  of  Trape- 
zus, though  kind  and  even  generous  to  the  new  arrivals, 
kept  their  gates  jealously  shut — CalUas  made  his  way  to  the 
house  of  a  citizen  who  was,  he  was  told,  the  principal  mer- 
chant in  the  place.  Nothing  could  have  been  warmer  than 
the  welcome  which  he  received,  when  he  produced  the  slip 
of  parchment  to  which  Hippocles  had  affixed  his  seal  aAd 
signature. 

"All  I  have  is  at  your  disposal,"  cried  Demochares;  this 
was  the  name  of  the  Trapezuntine  naerchant.     "I  cannot 


CALL  I  AS.  219 

do  too  much  for  auy  frieud  of  Hippocles.  You  will,  of 
course,  take  up  your  quarters  with  ine ;  aud  any  advance 
that  you  may  want, — unless,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  "  you 
have  learnt  extravagance  among  the  Persians,  for  we  are 
not  vefy  rich  here  in  Trapezus — any  advance  within  reason 
you  have  only  to  ask  for." 

The  young  Athenian  ventured  to  borrow  fifty  gold  pieces, 
astonishing  his  new  friend  by  the  moderation  of  his  demand. 
He  knew  that  some  of  his  comrades,  mercenaries  who  had 
not  received  an  obol  of  pay  for  several  months,  must  be 
very  badly  oflf,  and  he  was  glad  to  make  a  slight  return  for 
many  little  services  that  he  had  received,  and  acts  of  kindness 
and  good  fellowship  that  had  been  done  for  him  on  the 
march.  As  for  hospitality,  he  begged  to  be  allowed  to  poet- 
pone  his  answer  till  he  could  consult  his  general. 

"  I  don't  like  to  leave  you,  sir,"  he  said  when  he  broached 
the  subject  to  Xenophon  after  their  evening  meal.  "  Why 
should  I  have  the  comforts  of  a  house,  lie  soft,  and  feed  well, 
while  you  are  sleeping  on  the  ground,  and  getting  or  not 
getting  a  meal,  as  good  luck  or  bad  luck  will  have  it?  " 

"My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Xenophon,  "  there  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  not  take  the  good  the  gods  provide  you. 
You  are  not  one  of  us ;  you  never  have  been.  You  came  as 
a  volunteer,  and  a  volunteer  you  have  remained.  You  are 
perfectly  free  to  do  as  you  please.  Besides,  if  you  want  any- 
thing more  to  satisfy  you,  you  are  attached  to  my  command, 
and  I  formally  give  you  leave." 

Callias,  accordingly,  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  merchant's 
house.  Never  was  guest  more  handsomely  treated.  Demo- 
chares  and  his  family  were  never  wearied  of  his  adventures, 
a  story  which  has  indeed  interested  the  world  ever  since, 
and  which  to  these  Greeks  of  Trapezus  had  a  meaning 
which  it  has  lost  for  us.    Living  as  they  did  on  the  farthest 


2:a>  CALL  I  AS. 

bouudarieB  of  the  Greater  Greece,  the  Greece  of  the  colonies, 
they  were  keenly  alive  to  all  that  could  be  known  about  the 
barbarian  world  with  which  tliey  were  brought  in  constant 
contact.  The  young  Athenian,  indeed,  held  a  sort  pf  levee 
which  was  thronged  day  after  day  with  visitors  young  and 
old.  Ail  that  he  had  to  tell  them  about  the  Great  King,  on 
whose  dominions  they  were  in  some  sort  trespasser,  and 
about  the  unknown  tribes  who  dwelt  between  the  sea  and 
the  Persian  capital,  was  eagerly  listened  to.  Pleasant  as  his 
sojourn  was  to  himself,  it  was  not  without  some  advantage 
to  his  old  comrades.  His  host  was  an  important  person  in 
Trapezus,  holding  indeed  the  chief  magistracy  for  the  year, 
and  he  had  much  to  do  with  the  libeml  present  of  oxen, 
corn,  and  wine  which  the  town  voted  to  the  army. 

A  month  passed  in  a  sufficiently  pleasant  way.  Mean- 
while the  army  was  preparing  to  offer  a  solemn  thanks- 
giving for  the  safe  completion  of  the  most  perilous  part  of 
its  journey.  The  vows  made  at  the  moment  of  its  greatest 
danger  were  now  to  be  paid,  and  paid,  after  the  usual  Greek 
fashion,  in  a  way  that  would  combine  religion  and  festivity. 
There  was  to  be  a  sacrifice ;  the  sacrifice  was  to  be  followed 
by  a  feast,  and  the  feast  again  by  a  celebration  which  was, 
of  course,  in  a  great  measure  an  entertainment,  but  was  also, 
in  a  way,  a  function  of  worship.  Wrestlers,  boxers,  and 
runners  not  only  amused  the  spectators  and  contended  for 
glory  and  prizes,  but  were  also  supposed  in  some  way  to  be 
doing  honor  to  the  gods. 

The  sacrifice  and  the  feast  it  is  not  necessary  to  describe. 
Necessarily  there  was  nothing  very  splendid  or  costly  about 
them.  The  purses  of  the  soldiers  were  empty,  though  they 
had  a  good  deal  of  property,  chiefly  in  the  way  of  prisoners 
whom  they  had  captured  on  the  way,  and  whom  they  would 
sell  in  the  slave  markets  as  the  opportunity  might  come. 


CALLIAS.  221 

Trapezus,  however,  and  the  friendly  Colchian  tribes  in  the 
neighborhood  furnished  a  fair  supply  of  sheep  and  oxen  to 
serve  as  victims,  and  a  sufficient  quantity  of  bread,  wine, 
dried  fruit  and  olive  oil,  this  last  being  a  luxury  which  the 
Greeks  had  greatly  missed  during  their  march,  and  which 
they  highly  appreciated.  A  few  of  the  officers,  the  pious 
Xenophon  among  them,  went  to  the  expense  of  gilding  the 
horns  of  the  beasts  which  were  their  si)ecial  offerings  ;  but 
for  the  most  part  the  arrangements  were  of  a  plain  and  fru- 
gal kind. 

The  games  had  at  least  the  merit  of  affording  a  vast  amount 
of  entertainment  to  a  huge  multitude  of  spectators.  They 
were  celebrated,  it  may  be  easily  understood,  under  con- 
siderable difficulties,  for  Trapezus  did  not  possess  any  regular 
race  course,  and  the  only  rings  for  wrestling  and  boxing 
were  within  the  walls,  and  therefore  not  available  on  this 
occasion.  By  common  consent  the  naanagement  of  the 
affair  was  handed  over  to  a  certain  Dracontius.  He  was  a 
Spartan,  and  to  the  Spartans,  who  had  been  undisputed 
lords  of  Greece  since  the  fall  of  Athens,  had  been  conceded 
a  certain  right  of  precedence  on  all  such  occasions  as  these. 
Dracontius,  too,  was  a  man  of  superior  rank  to  his  comrades. 
He  belonged  to  one  of  the  two  royal  houses  of  Sparta,  but 
had  been  banished  from  his  country  in  consequence  of  an 
unlucky  accident.  In  one  of  the  rough  sports  which  the 
Spartan  lads  were  accustomed  to  practice,  sports  which  were 
commonly  a  more  or  less  close  mimicry  of  war,  a  blow  of  his 
dagger,  dealt  without  evil  intention  but  with  a  criminal 
carelessness,  had  been  fatal  to  a  companion.  Hence,  from 
boyhood,  he  had  been  an  exile ;  cut  off  from  the  more 
honorable  career  to  which  he  might  have  looked  forward 
in  the  service  of  his  country,  he  had  been  content  to  enlist 
as  a  mercenary. 


222  CALLIA6: 

Dracontius,  accordingly,  was  made  presidentof  the  games. 
The  skins  of  the  sacrificed  animals  were  presented  to  him, 
as  his  fee,  and  he  was  asked  to  lead  the  way  to  the  race 
course  where  the  contests  were  to  be  held. 

"  Bace  course ! "  cried  the  Spartan,  with  the  brusqiierie 
which  it  was  the  fashion  of  his  country  to  use,  ' '  Race  course ! 
What  more  do  you  want  than  what  we  have  here?" 

A  m.urmur  of  astonishment  ran  through  the  army.  In- 
deed there  could  have  been  nothing  less  like  a  race  course 
than  the  ground  on  which  they  were  standing.  It  was  the 
slope  of  a  hill,  a  slope  that  sometimes  became  almost  precipi- 
tous. Most  of  it  was  covered  with  brushwood  and  heather. 
Grass  there  was  none,  except  here  and  there  where  it  covered 
with  a  treacherously  smooth  surface  some  dangerous  quag- 
mire. Here  and  there,  the  limestone  rock  cropped  up  with 
jagged  points. 

" But  where  shall  we  wrestle?  "  asked  Timagenes,  an  Ar- 
cadian athlete,  who  had  won  the  prize  for  wrestling  two  or 
three  years  before  at  the  Lithuriau  games,  and  who 
naturally  considered  himself  as  an  authority  on  the  subject. 

"  Here  of  course,"  was  the  president's  reply. 

"  But  how  can  a  man  wrestle  on  ground  so  hard  and  so 
rough  ?  "  asked  the  Arcadian,  who  had  no  idea  of  practicing 
his  art  except  in  a  regular  ring. 

"Well  enough,"  said  Dracontius,  "but  those  who  are 
thrown  will  get  worse  knocks." 

The  wrestler's  face  fell  and  he  walked  off  amid  a  general 
laugh.  His  comrades  fancied,  not  without  reason,  that  he 
was  a  great  deal  too  careful  of  his  person. 

But  if  the  ground,  broken  with  rocks  and  overgrown  with 
wood  was  not  suited  to  scientific  wrestling,  it  certainly 
helped  to  make  some  of  the  other  sports  more  than  usually 
amusing.    The  first  contest  was  a  mile  race  for  boys.    Most 


CALLIA8.  223 

of  the  competitors  were  lads  who  had  been  taken  prisoners 
on  the  march,  but  a  few  Colchians  entered  for  the  prize,  as 
did  also  two  or  three  boys  of  Trapezus,  who  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  particularly  fleet  of  foot.  But  the  natives  of 
the  plain,  stUl  more  the  inhabitants  of  the  town,  found 
themselves  entirely  outpaced  on  this  novel  race  course  by 
the  young  mountaineers.  A  Carduchian  came  in  first,  and 
was  presented  with  his  Uberty,  his  master  being  compen- 
sated out  of  the  prize  fund  which  had  been  subscribed  by 
the  army.  As  soon  as  he  understood  that  he  was  free,  he 
set  out  at  full  speed  in  the  direction  of  his  home.  A  true 
mountaineer,  he  sickened  for  his  native  hills,  and  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  them  again  was  ready  to  brave  alone  the 
perils  which  an  army  had  scarcely  survived. 

A  foot  race  for  men  followed,  but  the  distance  to  be  tra- 
versed was,  according  to  the  common  custom  of  the  great 
games,  only  two  hundred  yards.  There  were  as  many  as 
sixty  competitors ;  but  curiously  enough,  they  were  to  a  man 
Cretans.  Another  foot  race,  this  time  for  men  in  heavy 
armor,  was  next  run.  The  president  had  a  Spartan's  ad- 
miration for  all  exercises  that  had  a  real  bearing  on  military 
training,  and  the  race  of  the  heavy  armed  was  unquestion- 
ably one  of  these.  It  was  won  by  a  gigantic  Arcadian,  an 
^tolian  whose  diminutive  stature  made  a  curious  contrast 
to  his  competitor  coming  in  close  behind  him. 

Next  came  the  great  event  of  the  day,  the  "  Contest  of  the 
Five  Exercises,"  or  "  Pentathlon."  The  five  were  leaping, 
wrestling,  running,  quoit-throwing,  and  javelin-throwing. 
The  competitor  who  won  most  successes  had  the  prize  ad- 
judged to  him.*    Callias  had  been  trained  for  some  time  at 

•  According  to  some  accounts  no  competitor  was  crowned  unless  he 
was  successftilln  all.  But  victory  In  five  exercises  so  dissimilar  could 
seldom,  if  ever,  have  been  gained.  Quolt-throwlng,  for  instance,  corre- 
sponding to  our  "  putting  the  stone,''^  required  lofty  stature  and  great 
muscular  strength,  and  would  very  seldom  be  the  specialty  of  a  very 
fleet  runner. 


224  CALLIAS. 

home  with  the  intention  of  becoming  a  competitor  at  Olym- 
pia ;  but  various  causes  had  hindered  him  from  carrying  out 
his  purpose,  and,  of  course,  he  was  now  wholly  out  of  prac- 
tice. He  was  sitting  quietly  among  the  spectators  when  he 
felt  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  looking  up,  saw  his 
general  standing  by. 

"Stand  up  for  the  honor  of  Athens,"  said  Xenophon, 
' '  don't  let  the  men  of  the  Island  carry  everything  before 
them." 

"  But  I  am  not  in  training,"  said  Callias. 

"  You  are  in  as  good  training,  I  fancy,"  repUedthe  general, 
' '  as  are  any  of  these  ;  better  I  shoidd  say,  to  j  udge  from  the 
way  in  which  they  have  been  eating  and  drinking  since  the 
retreat  was  ended.  Besides,  it  is  only  the  boxers  who  abso- 
lutely require  anything  very  severe  in  that  way.  And  you 
have  youth." 

Callias  still  made  objections,  but  yielded  when  his  general 
made  the  matter  a  personal  favor. 

The  comx)etitors  were  six  in  number,  the  winner  of  the 
foot  race,  the  tall  Arcadian  and  his  diminutive  rival  from 
-liEtolia,  two  Achaeans,  and  Callias. 

The  first  contest  was  leaping  at  the  bar.  Here  the  Arca- 
dian's long  legs  served  him  well.  He  was  a  singularly  un- 
gainly fellow,  and  threw  himself  over  the  bar,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  the  expression,  in  a  lump.  Every  time  the  bar  was 
raised,  he  managed  just  to  clear  it,  though  the  spectators 
could  not  understand  how  his  clumsy  legs,  which  seemed 
sprawling  everywhere,  managed  to  avoid  touching  it.  Still 
they  did  manage  it,  and  when  he  had  cleared  four  cubits 
short  of  a  palm,  which  may  be  translated  into  the  EngUsh 
measure  of  five  feet  nine  inches,  his  rivals  had  to  own  them- 
selves beaten.  Callias,  who  came  second,  declared  that  he 
had  been  balked  by  the  infamous  playing  of  the  fiute  player, 


CALL  I  AS.  22;-, 

whose  music  according  to  the  custom  followed  at  Olyrapia, 
accompanied  the  jumping.  "The  wretch,"  he  declared  to 
the  friends  who  condoled  with  him  on  the  loss  of  what  they 
had  put  down  to  him  for  a  certainty,  "  the  wretch  played 
a  false  note  just  as  I  was  at  my  last  trial.  If  I  had  not  heard 
him  do  the  same  at  least  half  a  dozen  times  before,  I  should 
have  said  that  he  did  it  on  purjwse." 

If  chance  or  fraud  had  been  against  him  in  this  trial,  in 
tlie  next  he  was  decidedly  favored  by  fortune.  This  was 
the  foot  race.  The  course  was,  as  usual,  round  a  post  fixed 
about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  starting  point,  and  home 
again.  Whenever  a  turn  has  to  be  made,  a  certain  advan- 
tage falls  to  the  competitor  who  has  the  inner  place,  and 
when,  as  in  this  case,  the  distance  is  short,  the  advantage  is 
considerable.  The  places  were  determined  by  lot.  The  in- 
nermost fell  to  the  Arcadian ;  Callias  came  next  to  him ; 
fortunately  for  him,  his  most  dangerous  competitor,  the 
Cretan  who  had  won  the  foot  race,  had  the  outermost,  i.  e., 
the  worst  station.  The  Arcadian  jumped  away  with  a  lead, 
and  for  fifty  yards  managed,  thanks  to  the  long  strides 
which  his  long  legs  enabled  him  to  take,  to  keep  in  front ;  but 
the  eflEbrt  was  soon  spent ;  by  the  time  that  the  turning 
point  was  reached,  Callias  had  gained  enough  upon  hinx  to 
attempt  the  dangerous  maneuver  of  taking  his  ground.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  this,  he  must  have  been  beaten,  for  the 
fleet-footed  Cretan,  weighted  though  he  was  by  his  dis- 
advantageous place,  ran  a  dead  heat  with  him. 

In  the  quoit-throwing,  the  Arcadian's  strength  and 
stature  brought  him  to  the  front  again.  With  us  quoit- 
playing  is  a  trial  of  skill  as  well  as  of  strength.  The  quoit 
is  thrown  at  a  mark,  and  the  player  who  contrives  to  go 
nearest  to  this  mark,  without  touching  it  (for  to  touch  it 
commonly  ends  in  disaster)  wins.    At  the  same  time  the 


226  CALLIA.S. 

throw  does  not  count  unless  the  quoit  either  sticks  into  the 
ground  or  lies  flat  upon  it  with  the  right  side  uppermost.  In 
the  Greek  game  there  were  no  requirements  of  this  kind. 
The  quoit  was  a  huge  mass  of  metal  with  notches  hy  which 
it  could  be  conveniently  grasped,  or,  sometimes,  a  hole  in 
the  middle  through  which  a  leather  strap  or  wooden  handle 
could  be  put.  He  who  threw  it  farthest  was  the  winner. 
Some  little  knack  was  required,  as  is  indeed  the  case  in  every 
feat  of  strength,  and,  as  has  been  said  before,  stature  was 
the  chief  qualification.  The  Arcadian  hurled  the  quoit,  a 
mass  of  iron  weighing  ten  pounds,  to  the  vast  distance  of 
forty-two  feet.  None  of  his  rivals  came,  near  him.  As  he 
had  now  won  two  events  out  of  three,  and  his  gigantic 
height  and  weight  would  make  him,  to  say  the  least,  a  for- 
midable opponent  in  the  wrestling,  he  was  a  favorite  for 
the  prize.  His  Arcadian  countrymen,  who  formed,  as  has 
been  said,  a  large  proportion  of  the  army,  were  in  high  hope, 
and  staked  sums  that  were  far  beyond  their  means  on  his 
success. 

The  quoit-throwing  was  followed  by  hurling  the  javelin 
at  a  mark.  Here  the  Arcadian  was  hopelessly  distanced, 
for  here  skill  was  as  much  wanted  as  strength  had  been  in 
the  preceding  trial.  He  threw  the  javelin  indeed  with  pro- 
digious force,  but  threw  it  wholly  wide  of  the  mark.  Indeed, 
when  he  was  performing,  the  near  neighborhood  of  the 
mark  would  have  been  the  safest  place  to  stand.  The  spec- 
tators were  more  than  once  in  danger  of  their  lives,  so  at  ran- 
dom and  at  the  same  time  so  vigorous  were  his  strokes.  The 
first  mark  was  a  post  rudely  fashioned  into  the  figure  of  a 
man.  To  hit  the  head  was  the  best  aim  that  could  be  made ; 
to  hit  a  space  marked  out  upon  the  body  and  roughly  repre- 
senting the  heart  Was  the  next ;  the  third  in  merit  was  a 
blow  that  fell  on  some  other  part  of  the  body.    The  legs 


CALLIAS.  227 

counted  for  nothing.  Callias  and  the  Cretan  scored  precisely 
the  same.  The  Athenian  hit  the  head  twice,  scoring  six  for 
the  two  blows.  The  third  time  his  j  avelin  missed  altogether. 
The  Cretan,  on  the  other  hand,  in  his  three  strokes  hit  tlie 
third,  second,  and  the  first  places  successively,  scoring  for 
them  one,  two,  and  three  respectively.  Further  trials  of 
skill  were  now  given.  A  wand  about  three  fingers  wide  was 
set  up  at  a  distance  of  twelve  yards.  The  Cretan's  javelin 
pierced  it,  making  it,  as  may  be  supposed,  an  exceedingly 
difficult  thing  for  a  rival  to  equal,  much  more  to  surpass  thv 
performance.  But  Callias  wsis  equal  to  the  occasion.  Amid 
tumultuous  applause  from  the  si)ectators,  for  his  courtesy 
and  carriage  had  made  him  a  great  favorite,  he  hurled  his 
javelin  with  such  accuracy  that  he  split  that  which  was 
already  sticking  in  the  mark.  Again  the  Cretan  and  he 
were  pronounced  to  have  made  a  tie. 

The  two  Achaeans  and  the  .(Etolian  did  creditably,  scor- 
ing five  each.  As  they  had  failed  in  four  out  of  the  five 
contests,  the  prize  was  clearly  out  of  their  reach,  and  they 
stood  out  of  the  last  competition,  the  wrestling. 

And  now  came  the  last  and  deciding  strtiggle.  Here 
again  fortune  decidedly  favored  the  Athenian.  The  presi- 
dent, following  the  rule  always  observed  at  Olympia,  ordered 
three  lots  marked  A,  B,  and  C,  and  representing  respectively 
Callias,  the  Arcadian,  and  the  Cretan,  to  be  put  into  an  urn. 
The  two  first  drawn  were  to  contend  in  the  first  heat,  the 
third  was  to  have  what  is  technically  called  a  "  bye."  The 
"  bye  "  fell  to  the  lot  of  Callias,  and  with  it,  it  need  hardly 
be  said,  the  not  inconsiderable  advantage  of  coming  fresh  to 
contend  with  a  rival  who  had  undergone  the  taiigae  of  a 
previous  struggle. 

The  issue  of  the  contest  between  the  Arcadian  and  the 
Cretan  was  not  long  in  doubt.  The  latter  was  an  agile  fellow. 


2^8  CALLTAS. 

who  would  have  had  a  very  good  chance  with  "light- 
weights," to  use  again  a  technical  term,  if  the  competitors 
liad  been  so  classed,  as  indeed  they  are  by  the  customs  of  the 
modern  wrestling  ring.  But  against  his  gigantic  opponent 
he  had  scarcely  a  chance.  In  the  first  bout  the  Arcadian 
lifted  his  antagonist  clean  from  the  ground,  and  threw  him 
down  at  full  length  without  more  ado.  The  second  was 
more  equal.  The  Cretan  struck  his  antagonist's  left  ankle 
so  sharply  with  his  foot  that  the  giant  fell,  but  he  could 
not  loose  the  other's  hold,  and  fell  also,  scoring  only  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  the  uppermost.  If  there  had  been  a  tie  in 
the  other  two  bouts  this  might  have  sufficed  to  give  him  the 
victory,  or  the  president  might  have  ordered  a  fresh  trial. 
But  the  third  bout  was  decisive.  It  was  in  fact  a  repetition 
of  the  first,  only,  if  possible,  still  more  decisive.  The  Cretan 
was  again  lifted  from  the  ground,  before  he  had  the  chance 
of  practicing  any  of  his  devices,  and  again  hurled  at  full 
length  upon  the  ground.  This  time  he  was  stunned,  and 
carried  insensible  from  the  ground  by  his  companions. 

A  brief  interval  was  now  allowed.  It  was  thought  unfair 
that  the  Arcadian  should  be  called  upon  to  engage  a  fresh 
antagonist  without  some  chance  of  resting  himself.  But 
what  was  meant  for  an  advantage  turned  out  to  be  exactly 
the  contrary.  The  man  was  not  particularly  tired,  but  he 
was  exceedingly  thirsty,  and  he  had  not  learnt  the  habit  of 
self-control.  Regardless  of  the  remonstrance  of  his  com- 
panions, he  indulged  himself  with  a  huge  goblet  of  wine 
and  water.  So  imprudent  was  he  indeed  that  he  put  less 
water  than  was  usual  in  the  mixture,  and  slightly  confused 
his  hrain  by  the  potency  of  the  draught.  When  he  came 
forth  to  meet  his  antagonist,  he  had  not  only  damaged  his 
wind  but  had  made  his  footing  somewhat  unsteady.  Three 
Ijouts,  as  before,  were  fought.     The  Arcadian  first  tried  the 


CALLIAS.  229 

simple  tactics  wliich  had  been  successful  with  the  Cretan. 
He  did  his  best  to  lift  the  Athenian  from  the  ground,  and 
Calllas  had  all  he  could  do  to  prevent  it.  But  his  weight 
and  his  strength,  which  he  made  the  piostof  by  his  coolness, 
stood  him  in  good  stead.  After  a  fierce  struggle  both  fell 
together,  and  fell  in  such  a  way  that  the  president  declared 
that  neither  had  gained  any  advantage.  Practically,  how- 
ever, the  victory  was  decided  in  favor  of  Callias.  The  Ar- 
cadian's strength  was  impaired,  and  he  was  so  scant  of 
breath  that  he  could  not  use  what  was  left  to  him.  And  he 
had  little  skill  to  fallback  upon,  whereas  his  antagonist  had 
been  the  favorite  pupil  of  one  of  the  best  trainers  in  Athens. 
In  the  second  bout  Callias  struck  the  Arcadian  on  the  right 
foot  wnth  his  own  left ;  in  the  third  he  simply  reversed  the 
device,  striking  the  left  with  his  right.  In  both  he  con- 
trived to  free  himself  when  his  opponent  fell.  Thus  the 
fifth  contest  ended  for  him  in  an  unquestioned  victory. 

The  prize  of  victory  was  an  ox  and  a  purse  of  twenty-five 
gold  pieces,  for  soldiers  who  fought  for  pay  would  not  have 
relished  the  barren  honor  of  a  wreath  of  wild  olive  with 
wliich  the  Olympian  judges  were  accustomed  to  reward  the 
victors.  Callias  won  golden  opinions  from  his  comrades  by 
the  liberality  with  which  he  disposed  of  his  gains.  The  ox 
he  presented  to  the  company  to  which  he  had  been  attached  ; 
the  money  he  divided,  in  such  proportion  as  seemed  right, 
among  the  unsuccessful  competitors. 

One  more  contest  remained,  and  it  turned  out  to  be  the 
most  entertaining  of  them  all.  This  was  a  horse  race.  The 
competitors  were  to  make  their  way  from  the  hill-top  to  the 
shore  and  back  again.  The  headlong,  break-neck  speed  at 
which  they  galloped  down,  and  the  slow  and  painful  effort 
by  which  they  crawled  back  again,  were  witnessed  with  in- 
extinguishable laughter  by  the  assembled  crowds.    Xeno- 


230  GALLIAS. 

phon  himself  took  a  part  in  this  sport,  and  gained  great 

favor  not  only  by  his  condescension  but  by  his  skillful 

riding.    He  did  not  win,  indeed,  for  the  animal  which  he 

rode  was  hopelessly  inferior,  but  his  performance  did  not 

discredit  the  land  which  claimed  by  the  bounty  of  the  god 

of  the  sea  to  have  been  the  birthplace  of  the  horse.*    The 

piety  of  Xenophon  always  ready  to  show  itself,  did  not  fail 

to  improve  the  occasion  of  his  young  friend's  success. 

"You  have  gained  the  prize,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  the 

deepest  earnestness,  "  nor  did  you  fail  to  deserve  it.    Prize 

it  the  more  because  it  is  manifest  that  the  gods  favor  you. 

Youth  and  strength  pass  away,  but  piety  you  can  cherish 

always,  and  cherishing  piety,  you  have  also  the  favor  of 

the  gods." 

*  The  legend  was  that  Poseidon  and  Athene  contended  together  for  the 
honor  of  oeing  the  patron  Deity  of  Attica.  This  was  to  be  adjudged  to 
the  Power  which  should  present  It  with  the  most  useful  gift.  Poseidon 
struck  the  ground  with  his  trident,  and  produced  the  horse;  Athene 
bade  the  olive  spring  forth,  and  was  judged  to  have  surpassed  her 
rival.    Reference  Is  made  to  this  legend  In  the  most  beautiful  of  the 


choral  odes  of  Sophocles,  the  "  Pn 
two  plays  In  the  Story  of  CEdipus. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

BUSINESS  AND  PLEASURE. 

Its  religious  obligations  dischiarged,  for  the  games,  as  hab 
been  already  said,  were  regarded  as  a  service  of  thanksgiving 
for  deliverance,  the  army  turned  its  attention  to  secular 
affairs.  One  indispensable  duty,  one  curiously  characteristic, 
by  the  way,  of  the  Greek  soldier's  temper  of  mind,  was  to 
call  the  generals  to  account.  For  a  Greek  soldier,  even  when 
he  was  selling  his  sword  to  the  highest  bidder,  never  forgot 
that  he  was  a  citizen,  and  that  as  a  citizen  he  had  the  right 
of  satisfying  himself  that  his  superiors  had  done  their  duty 
with  due  care  and  with  integrity.  The  Ten  Thousand 
accordingly  put  aside  for  the  time  their  mihtary  character, 
and  resolved  themselves  into  a  civil  assembly.  Their  generals 
were  no  longer  the  commanding  officers  to  whom  they  owed 
an  unhesitating  obedience,  butthemagistrates  who  had  just 
completed  their  term  of  office,  and  had  now  to  render  their 
accounts  f  to  those  who  had  elected  them. 

The  meeting  of  the  army,  perhaps  I  should  rather  say  the 
assembly,  was  held  on  the  same  ground  which  had  served 
for  a  race  course.  One  by  one  the  officers  were  called  to 
answer  for  themselves.  With  many,  indeed,  the  proceeding 

fThe  examination  of  accounts  (euthuna)  was  one  of  the  most  Impor- 
tant constitutional  usages  i  n  the  Athenian  commonwealth.  All  magis- 
trates on  coming  outofofflce,  and  ambassadors  returnlngfrom  a  mission 
had  to  undergo  it.  The  exisience  of  this  usage  would  make  the  differ- 
ence in  the  eyes  of  an  Athenian  between  a  constitutional  and  a  despotic 
government.  The  other  Greek  StaU's,  though  we  know  but  little  of 
their  Internal  arrangements,  probably  had  some  similar  institution. 


232  CALLIAS. 

was  purely  formal.  The  name  was  called,  and  the  man 
stepped  forward  on  a  platform  which  had  been  erected 
where  it  could  be  best  seen  by  the  whole  meeting.  If  no 
one  appeared  to  make  a  complaint  or  to  ask  a  question,  the 
soldiers  gave  him  around  of  applause,  if  I  may  use  the  word 
of  the  noise  made  by  clashing  their  spears  against  their 
shields ;  this  was  a  verdict  of  acquittal  and  the  officer  re- 
tired with  a  bow.  And  this  was  what  commonly  happened. 
After  all,  the  leaders  had,  on  the  whole,  done  their  duty 
sufficiently  well ;  there  was  proof  of  that  in  the  simple  fact 
that  such  a  meeting  was  being  held.  But  all  did  not  escape 
so  easily.  If,  indeed,  only  a  few  voices  of  dissatisfaction  were 
heard,  the  matter  was  not  pushed  any  further.  When  the 
second  appeal  was  made  by  the  malcontents,  they,  seeing 
that  they  were  not  supported  by  their  comrades,  preferred 
to  keep  silence.  The  man  would,  in  all  probability,  be  their 
officer  again  and  he  would  not  be  likely  to  think  pleasantly 
of  anyone  who  had  accused  him.  But  where,  on  the  other 
hand,  there  was  anything  like  an  agreement  of  dissatisfied 
voices,  the  complainants  took  courage  to  come  forward,  and 
the  examination  was  proceeded  with  in  earnest.  One  officer 
had  had  charge  of  some  of  the  property  of  the  army  ;  there 
was  a  deficiency  in  his  accounts  and  he  was  fined  twenty 
minas  *  to  make  it  good.  Another  was  accused  of  careless- 
ness in  his  duties  as  leader,  and  had  to  pay  half  this  sum. 
Then  came  the  cause  celebre,  as  it  may  be  called,  of  the  day, 
the  trial  of  Xenophon  himself.  Xenophon  was  generally 
popular  with  the  army,  as,  indeed,  he  could  scarcely  fail  to 
be,  considering  all  that  he  had  done  for  it ;  but  he  had 
enemies.  The  mere  fact  of  his  being  an  Athenian  made  him 
an  object  of  dislike  to  some  ;  others,  as  will  be  seen,  he  had 
been  compelled  to  offend  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty. 

*  Rather  more  than  WOO.  ' 


CALLIA6}.  233 

"Xenophon,  the  son  of  Gryllus,"  shouted  the  herald  at 
the  top  of  his  voice. 

The  Athenian  stepped  on  to  the  platform. 

An  Arcadian  soldier,  Nicarchus  by  name,  came  forward 
and  said,  "I  accuse  Xenophon  the  Athenian  of  violence 
and  outrage." 

A  few  voices  of  assent  were  heard  throughout  the  meeting  ; 
and  some  half  dozen  men  came  forward  to  support  the 
the  prosecutor.    Accuser  and  accused  were  now  confronted. 

"  Of  what  do  you  accuse  me  ?"  asked  Xenophon. 

"  Of  wantonly  striking  me,"  replied  the  man. 

"  When  and  where  did  you  suffer  these  blows  ?" 

"After  we  had  crossed  the  Euphrates,  when  there  was  a 
heavy  fall  of  snow. ' ' 

"  I  remember.  You  are  right.  The  weather  was  terrible  ; 
our  provisions  had  run  out ;  the  wine  could  not  so  much  as 
be  smelt ;  many  men  were  dropping  down,  half  dead  with 
fatigue ;  the  enemy  were  close  upon  our  heels.  Were  not 
these  things  so?" 

"  It  is  true.  Things  were  as  bad  as  you  say,  or  even  worse." 

"You  hear,"  said  Xenophon,  turning  to  the  assembly, 
"  how  we  were  situated,  and  indeed,  seeing  that  you  suffered 
these  things  yourself,  you  are  not  likely  to  forget  them. 
Verily,  if  in  such  a  condition  of  things,  I  struck  this  man 
wantonly  and  without  cause,  you  might  fairly  count  me 
more  brutal  than  an  ass.  But  say — "  he  went  on,  addressing 
himself  again  to  his  accuser,  "was  there  not  a  cause  for 
my  beating  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  there  was  a  cause,"  the  fellow  sullenly  admitted. 

"  Did  I  ask  you  for  something,  and  strike  you  because  you 
refused  to  give  it?" 

"No." 

"Did  I  demand  payment  for  a  debt,  and  lose  my  temper 
because  the  money  was  not  forthcoming?" 


234  OALLIAS. 

"No." 

"  Was  I  drunken  ?" 

"No." 

"  Tell  me  now  ;  are  you  a  heavy-armed  soldier?" 

"No  ;  I  am  not." 

' '  Are  you  a  light-armed  then  ?' ' 

"  No ;  nor  yet  a  light-armed." 

"  What  were  you  doing  then  ?' ' 

"  I  was  driving  a  mule." 

"Being  a  slave?" 

' '  Not  so  ;  I  am  free  ;  but  my  commander  compelled  me 
to  drive  it." 

A  light  broke  in  upon  Xenophon.  He  had  had  a  general 
recollection  of  the  occasion,  but  could  not  remember  the 
particular  incident.    Now  it  all  came  back  to  him. 

"Ah,"  he  cried,  "I  remember;  it  was  you  who  were 
carrying  the  sick  man?" 

"  Yes,"  theman  confessed,  "  I  did  so,  by  your  compulsion  ; 
and  a  pretty  mess  was  made  of  the  kit  that  I  had  upon  the 
mule's  back." 

"  Nay,  not  so  ;  the  men  carried  the  things  themselves,  and 
nothing  was  lost.  But  hear  the  rest  of  the  story,"  he  went 
on,  turning  to  the  assembly,  "  and,  indeed  it  is  worth  hear- 
ing. I  found  a  poor  fellow  lying  upon  the  ground,  who 
could  not  move  a  step  further.  I  knew  the  man,  and  knew 
him  as  one  who  had  done  good  service.  And  I  compelled 
you,  sir,"  addressing  Nicarchus,  "to  carry  him.  For  if  I 
mistake  not,  the  enemy  were  close  behind  us." 

The  Arcadian  nodded  assent. 

"Well  then;  I  sent  you  forward  with  your  burden, 
and  after  a  while,  overtook  you  again,  when  I  came  up  with 
the  rear  guard.  You  were  digging  a  trench  in  which  to 
bury  the  man.    I  thought  it  a  pious  act,  and  praised  you 


CALLJAS.  236 

for  it.  But,  lo  !  while  I  was  speaMng,  the  dead  man,  as  I 
thought  he  was,  twitched  his  leg.  '  Why  he's  alive,'  the 
bystanders  cried  out.  '  Alive  or  dead,  as  he  pleases,'  you 
said,  '  but  I  am  not  going  to  carry  him  any  further.'  Then 
I  struck  you.  I  acknowledge  it.  It  seemed  to  me  that  you 
were  going  to  bury  the  poor  fellow  alive." 

**  Well,"  said  the  Arcadian,  "  you  won't  deny,  I  suppose, 
that  the  man  died  after  all." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Xenophon,  "  he  died,  I  acknowledge.  We 
must  all  die  some  day  ;  but,  meanwhile,  there  is  no  reason 
why  we  should  be  buried  alive." 

The  man  hung  his  head  and  said  nothing. 

"  What  say  you,  comrades  ?"  cried  Xenophon. 

One  of  the  oldest  men  in  the  ranks  got  up  and  said,  "  If 
Xenophon  had  given  the  scoundrel  a  few  more  blows  he  had 
«lone  well." 

A  deafening  clash  of  swords  and  spears  followed,  and  the 
verdict  was  accepted. 

The  other  complainants  were  now  called  to  state  the  par- 
ticulars of  their  grievances.  Dismayed  by  the  reception 
which  their  spokesman  had  met  with,  they  remained  silent, 
one  and  all.  Xenophon  then  entered  upon  a  general  de- 
fence of  his  conduct. 

"  Comrades,"  he  said,  "  I  confess  that  I  have  many  times 
struck  men  for  want  of  discipline.  These  were  men  who, 
leaving  others  to  provide  for  their  safety,  thought  only  of 
their  own  gain.  While  we  were  fighting  they  would  leave 
their  place  in  the  ranks  to  plunder,  and  so  enriched  them- 
selves at  our  expense.  Some  also  I  have  struck,  when  I 
found  them  playing  the  coward  and  ready  to  give  them- 
selves helplessly  up  to  the  enemy.  Then  I  forced  them  to 
march  on,  and  so  saved  their  lives.  For  I  know,  having 
once  myself  sat  down  In  a  sharp  frost,  while  I  was  waiting 


236  CALLIAS. 

for  my  conirades,  how  loath  one  is  to  rise  again.  Therefore, 
for  their  salse,  I  raised  them  even  with  blows,  as  I  should  my- 
self wish,  were  I  so  found,  to  be  raised.  Others  also  have  I 
struck  whom  I  found  straggling  behind  that  they  might 
rest.  I  struck  them  for  your  sake,  for  they  were  hindering 
both  you  that  were  in  front,  and  us  that  were  behind,  and  I 
struck  them  for  their  own  sake.  For  verily  it  was  a  lighter 
thing  to  have  a  blow  with  the  fist  from  me  than  a  spear's 
thrust  from  the  enemy.  Of  a  truth,  if  they  are  able  to  stand 
up  now  to  accuse  me,  it  is  because  I  saved  them  thus.  Had 
they  fallen  into  the  enemy's  hand,  what  satisfaction  would 
they  be  able  to  get,  even  if  their  wrongs  were  ten  times 
worse  than  that  Nicarchus  complains  of?  No,"  he  went 
on,  "my  friends,  I  have  done  nothing  more  to  anyone  than 
what  a  wise  father  does  to  his  child,  or  a  good  physician 
does  to  his  patient.  You  see  how  I  behave  myself  now.  I 
am  in  better  case ;  I  fare  better  ;  I  have  food  and  wine  in 
plenty.  Yet  I  strike  no  one.  Why  ?  Because  there  is  no 
need ;  because  we  have  weathered  the  storm,  and  are  in 
smooth  water.  I  need  no  more  defence  ;  you  have,  I  see, 
acquitted  me.  Yet  I  cannot  forbear  to  say  that  I  take  it  ill 
that  this  accusation  has  been  made.  You  remember  the 
times  when  I  had  for  your  good  to  incur  your  dislike  ;  but 
the  times  when  I  eased  the  burden  of  storm  or  winter  for 
any  of  you,  when  I  beat  off  an  enemy,  when  I  ministered  to 
you  in  sickness  or  in  want,  these  no  one  remembers — "  and 
here  the  speaker's  voice  half  broke,  partly  with  real  emotion, 
partly  at  the  suggestion  of  the  orator's  art.  A  thrill  of 
sympathy  ran  through  the  audience.  "And  you  forget," 
he  went  on,  "  that  I  never  failed  to  praise  the  doer  of  any 
noble  deed,  or  to  do  such  honor  as  I  could  to  the  brave,  living 
or  dead.  Yet,  surely  it  were  more  noble,  more  just,  more 
after  the  mind  of  the  gods,  a  sweeter  and  kindlier  act,  to 


CALL  [AS.  237 

treasure  the  memory  of  the  good  than  to  cherish  these  hate- 
ful thoughts." 

When  the  speaker  sat  down,  there  was  nothing  that  he 
might  not  have  obtained  from  his  comrades. 

That  night  there  was  a  great  banquet.  This  served  a 
double  purpose.  Quarrels  were  made  up,  and  some  other 
diflBcult  relations  of  the  army  to  its  neighbors  were  satis- 
factorily adjusted.  The  fact  was,  that  the  Greeks,  partly 
from  their  want,  and  partly  in  the  hope  of  filling  their 
pockets  after  a  long  and  profitless  campaign,  had  been 
plundering  right  and  left.  The  natives,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  not  been  slow  to  retaliate.  Plundering  cannot  be  done 
satisfactorily  in  company ;  but  any  who  ventured  to  do  a 
little  business  on  his  own  account  ran  a  great  chance  of  be- 
ing cut  oflf.  Under  these  circumstances  both  parties  thought 
it  might  be  possible  to  come  to  an  agreement.  If  the  Greeks 
would  not  plunder,  the  natives  would  leave  them  unmolested 
and  even  furnish  them  with  supplies.  The  chief  of  the 
country,  accordingly,  sent  an  embassy,  with  a  handsome 
present  of  horses  and  rot)es  of  native  manufacture.  The 
generals  entertained  them  at  a  banquet,  to  which,  at  the 
same  time,  they  invited  the  most  influential  men  of  the 
army.  The  chiefs  proposals  would  be  informally  discussed, 
and  proposed  in  regular  form  at  a  general  meeting  the  next 
day. 

The  generals  did  their  best  to  impress  their  guests.  Meat, 
bread  and  wine  were  in  plenty  ;  and  the  eparch  of  Trape- 
zus  sent  one  of  the  magnificent  turbots  for  which  the  waters 
of  the  Black  Sea  were  famous.  All  the  plate  that  was  in 
the  camp  was  put  Into  requisition  to  make  as  brave  a  show 
as  possible ;  and,  at  the  instance  of  Callias,  some  handsome 
vessels  of  gold  and  silver  were  lent  by  the  town  authorities. 

But,  in  the  eyes  of  the  guests,  the  most  impressive  part  of 


238  CALL  I  A  !S. 

the  entertainment  was  in  the  performances  which  followed 
it.  The  libation  having  been  made  and  the  hymn,  which  sup- 
plied the  part  of  grace  after  meat,  having  been  sung,  some 
of  the  Thracian  soldiers  came  upon  the  platform  which  had 
been  prepared  for  the  performers.  They  wore  the  usual 
armor  of  their  country,  a  helmet,  greaves,  light  cuirass,  and 
sword,  and  danced  a  national  dance  to  the  sound  of  a  flute, 
leaping  into  the  air  with  extraordinary  nimbleness,  and 
brandishing  their  swords.  One  pair  of  dancers  were 
conspicuous  for  their  agility.  Faster  and  faster  grew  their 
movements,  and  with  gestures  of  defiance  they  alternately 
retreated  and  advanced.  At  last,  one  of  them,  carried,  it 
seemed,  out  of  himself  by  his  rage,  thrust  at  his  fellow  with 
his  sword.     The  man  fell. 

"  He  is  killed  !"  screamed  out  the  guests,  and  rose  from 
their  seats. 

Indeed,  the  m^m  had  fallen  so  artistically  and  lay  so  still 
that  anyone  would  have  thought  that  he  had  received  a 
fatal  blow.  The  Greeks,  however,  looked  on  unmoved,  and 
the  strangers,  not  knowing  whether  this  wonderful  people 
might  not  be  wont  to  kill  each  other  for  the  entertainment 
of  their  guests,  resumed  their  seats.  The  dancer  who  had 
dealt  the  blow  stripped  the  other  of  his  arms,  and  hurried 
off,  singing  the  Thracian  national  song : 

"  All  praise  to  Sltalces, 

Invisible  Lord, 
The  spear  point  that  errs  not, 

The  death-dealing  sword, 
The  chariot  that  scatters 

The  close  ranks  of  war, 
Red  Ruin  behind  it, 

Blind  Panic  before !" 

When  he  had  left  the  stage  a  party  of  Thracians  appeared 
and  carried  off  the  fallen  man,  who  had  remained  without 
giving  the  slightest  sign  of  life. 


CALLIAS.  238 

Another  dance  in  armor  succeeded,  performed  this  time 
by  JEolian  tribesmen  from  the  Menalian  coast.  A  man 
came  on  the  stage,  and,  laying  aside  his  arms,  made  believe 
to  drive  a  yoke  of  oxen,  and  to  sow  as  he  drove.  Every  now 
and  then  he  looked  round,  with  an  admirable  imitation  of 
expecting  some  unpleasant  interruption.  This  came  in  the 
shape  of  another  armed  man,  who  was  supposed  to  represent 
a_ cattle-lifter.  The  ploughman  caught  up  his  arms,  and  ran 
to  encounter  him.  The  two  fought  in  front  of  the  team, 
keeping  time  as  they  struck  and  parried  to  the  sound  of  the 
flute.  At  last  the  robber  appeared  to  vanquish  his  adver- 
sary, to  bind  him,  strip  him  of  his  arms,  and  drive  ofT  the 
team. 

The  next  performer  was  a  Mysian,  who  danced,  again  in 
armor,  what  we  should  call  a  pas  aeul.  He  had  a  light 
shield  in  each  hand,  and  seemed  to  be  fighting  with  two  ad- 
versaries at  once ;  his  action  was  extraordinarily  life-like 
and  his  agility  almost  more  than  human.  In  curious  con- 
trast with  his  performance  was  the  stately  movement  of 
some  Arcadians  heavy-armed,  who,  with  all  the  weight  of 
their  armor  and  accoutrements  upon  them,  moved  to  the 
tune  of  the  warriors'  march  with  as  much  ease  as  if  they 
had  been  perfectly  unencumbered. 

"Good  Heavens !"  cried  one  of  the  envoys  to  his  next 
neighbor,  "  what  men  these  are  !  Their  armor  seems  not  one 
whit  heavier  to  them  than  a  shirt,  and  they  carry  their 
swords  and  their  spears  as  if  they  were  twigs  of  osier." 

One  of  the  Mysians,  whose  dialect  was  not  very  difTerent 
from  that  of  the  speaker,  overheard  the  remark.  "Ah  I" 
he  said  to  himself,  "we  will  astonish  these  gentlemen  still 
more." 

He  drew  one  of  the  Arcadians  who  had  just  performed, 
aside.    "  Send  Cleone  on  the  stage,"  he  said. 


340  CALLIAS, 

Cleone  was  a  dancing-girl,  famous  for  her  agility. 

By  good  luck  she  was  at  hand,  having  indeed  expected 
to  perform  for  the  amusement  of  the  company.  The  Arca- 
dian made  her  put  on  a  light  cuirass  of  silvered  steel,  which 
she  wore  over  a  scarlet  tunic.  She  had  a  short  gilded  helmet, 
buskins  of  purple,  and  sandals  tied  with  crimson  strings. 
In  her  left  hand  she  carried  a  small  shield,  and  in  her  right, 
a  light  spear.  Thus  accoutred,  she  came  on  the  stage  and 
danced  the  Pyrrhic  dance  w'ith  tremendous  applause  from 
all  the  spectators. 

The  astonishment  of  the  native  guests  was  beyond  all  ex- 
pression. 

"What !"  cried  their  chief,  "do  your  women  fight?" 

"Of  course,"  said  the  general  whom  he  addressed,  "of 
course  they  fight,  and  very  pretty  soldiers  they  make." 

"  Women  soldiers  !  "  gasped  the  man. 

"  Why,"  said  his  host,  "  did  you  not  know  that  it  was  the 
women  who  routed  the  Great  King,  and  drove  him  out  of 
our  camp?" 


CHAPTER  XXVT. 

INVALIDED. 

CaLiLiIas  found  it  very  hard  to  sit  out  the  banquet  and 
the  entertainment  that  followed  it.  He  had  felt  a  headache 
before  sitting,  or  to  speak  more  correctly,  lying  down,  and 
this  grew  so  bad  during  the  evening  that  he  gladly  took  the 
earliest  opportunity  of  leaving.  The  fact  was  that  he  had 
been  ailing  for  some  days ;  the  excitement  of  the  games  had 
carried  him  through  the  labors  of  the  day,  but  he  suffered 
doubly  from  the  reaction,  and  before  nightfall  he  was 
seriously  ill. 

And  now  he  found  the  advantage  of  having  followed 
Xenophon's  advice  and  taken  up  his  quarters  in  the  town. 
Had  he  been  reduced  to  such  nursing  and  attendance  as  the 
camp  could  have  supplied,  his  chances  of  moving  would 
have  been  small  indeed.  At  the  house  of  Demochares,  on 
the  contrary,  he  had  everything  in  his  favor,  an  exception- 
ally good  nurse,  and  an  exceptionally  skillful  physician.  In 
those  days  neither  branch  of  the  healing  art,  for  nursing 
has  certainly  as  much  to  do  with  healing  as  physicking, 
was  very  successfully  cultivated.  Women  nursed  the  sick, 
indeed,  often  with  kindness  and  devotion,  for  woman's 
nature  was  substantially  the  same  then  as  it  is  now,  but 
they  did  it  in  a  blind  and  ignorant  fashion.  As  for  the 
practice  of  medicine  it  was  a  mass  of  curious  superstitions 
and  prejudices,  leavened  here  and  there  with  a  few  grains 


242  CALLIAS. 

of  experience,  and,  if  the  practitioner  liappened  to  have  that 
inestimable  quality,  of  good  sense.  Of  systems  there  was 
only  the  beginning.  The  great  physician  Hippocrates  had 
indeed  acquired  a  vast  reputation,  and  was  beginning  to  in- 
fluence the  opinion-of  the  faculty  throughout  Greece  ;  but 
the  medical  profession  has  always  been  slow  to  adopt  new 
ideas — what  profession,  indeed,  has  not?  —  tlie  means  of 
communication,  too,  were  very  limited,  and  as  yet  his  teach- 
ing had  had  but  little  effect. 

But  Callias  happened  to  be  exceedingly  fortunate  both  in 
his  nurse  and  in  his  doctor.  The  house  of  Demochares  was 
kept  by  his  sister,  a  widow,  who  after  her  husband's  death 
had  returned  to  her  old  home,  and  had  devoted  herself  to  a 
life  of  kindness  and  charity.  The  young  Athenian  had  won 
her  heart,  not  only  by  his  sunny  temper  and  gracious  man- 
ners, but  by  his  resemblance  to  a  son'  of  her  own  whose 
eafly  death — he  had  been  slain  in  a  skirmish  with  the  bar- 
barian neighbors  of  Trapezus — had  been  the  second  great 
sorrow  of  her  life.  His  illness  called  forth  her  tenderest 
sympathies,  and  nothing  could  have  exceeded  the  devotion 
with  which  she  ministered  to  her  patient. 

The  physician,  Demoleon  by  name,  was  a  very  remark- 
able man.  He  was  a  native  of  the  island  of  Cos,  and  was  at 
this  time  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age.  He  had  been 
one  of  the  first  pupils  of  the  famous  Hippocrates,  who  was 
a  native  of  the  same  island,  and  had  lived  on  terms  of  great 
intimacy  with  his  teacher  whom  he  assisted  in  his 
private  practice.  When  Hippocrates  was  summoned  to  the 
plague-stricken  city  of  Athens,  Demoleon  accompanied  him. 
and,  by  a  curious  coincidence,  in  the  course  of  his  residence 
there  had  treated  the  father  of  Callias.  Whatever  the  benefit 
that  followed  the  prescriptions  of  Hippocrates,  it  is  certain 
that  the  fact  of  his  being  called  in  to  administer  them  by  the 


CALLIAS.  243 

most  famous  citizeu  of  Greece,  largely  increased  his  reputa- 
tion, and  that  even  beyond  the  border  of  Greece.  The  great 
physician's  return  from  Athens  was  speedily  followed  by  an 
invitation  from  Artaxerxes,  King  of  Persia.*  The  plague 
that  had  devastated  Greece  had  passed  eastward,  and  was 
committing  destructive  ravages  throughout  the  Persian 
Empire.  Artaxerxes  implored  Hippocrates  to  give  htm  and 
his  subjects  the  benefit  of  his  advice.  He  offered  at  the 
same  time  the  magnificent  honorarium  of  two  talents  of 
gold  yearly.t  Tlie  patriotism  or  the  prudence  of  Hippocrates 
led  him  to  refuse  this  offer,  tempting  as  it  was.  He  would 
not,  he  said,  and  doubtless  with  sincerity,  give  the  benefit 
of  his  advice  to  the  hereditary  enemy  of  his  country.  At 
the  samfe  time,  we  may  suppose,  h^  reflected  to  himself  that 
he  would  be  putting  himself,  without  any  possibiUty  of  ap- " 
peal,  at  the  mercy  of  a  tyrannical  and  unscrupulous  master. 
But  one  of  the  Persian  envoys  succeeded  in  doing  a  little 
business  of  the  same  kind  on  his  own  account.  He  found 
the  pupil  less  resolute  against  the  temptations  of  a  great 
bribe  than  the  master  had  been.  Accordingly  he  engaged 
Demoleon  to  come  in  the  capacity  of  physician  to  himself 
and  his  household.  The  King  would  have  the  opportunity 
of  availing  himself  of  his  advice  if  he  pleased.  Artaxerxes 
was  disappointed  at  the  refusal  of  Hippocrates,  but  he  did 
not  disdain  the  help  of  a  man  who  had  shared  his  practice, 
and  was  probably  acquainted  with  his  system.  Demoleon 
prescribed  at  Susa  and  Persepolis  the  remedies  which  his 
master  had  employed  at  Athens,  the  burning  of  huge  fires 

in  the  street  and  squares,  and  the  use  of  an  antidote.    The 
•Artaxerxes  Longimanus,  so  called  from  the  circumstance  of  bis 

right  arm  being  longer  than  his  left.    He  reigned  from  465  to  425. 
t  About  £5,200  (825,000)  if  gold  is  to  be  reckoned  at  thirteen  times  the 

value  of  silver.     This  Is  Herodotus'  calculation,  and  it  probably  held 

good  in  Greece  for  a  century  or  more  from  his  time,  until,  in  fact,  the 


enormous  influx  of  gold  from  the  Asiaticconquestsof  Alexander  altered 
the  proportion. 


244  CALL  I  AH. 

pestilence  either  yielded  to  these  influences,  or,  as  is  more 
probable,  had  exhausted  its  force.  At  any  rate  Demoleon  got 
the  credit  of  having  vanquished  the  enemy,  and  was  re- 
warded by  a  munificent  present  from  the  King  and  by  an 
enormous  practice.. 

He  might  have  accimiulated  great  wealth  but  for 
an  unlucky  complication  for  which  he  can  scarcely 
be  considered  to  have  been  to  blame.  Necessity  sometimes 
compelled  a  departure,  in  the  case  of  the  physician, 
from  the  strict  rules  of  seclusion  with  which  the  Per- 
sian women  were  surrounded.  Demoleon  was  called  in  to 
visit  the  daughter  of  a  Persian  noble.  She  was  a  beautiful 
girl,  or  rather  would  have  been  beautiful  but  for  the  fact 
that  she  was  blind.  It  was  a  case  of  cataract,  and  the  Greek 
physician,  who  was  as  bold  as  he  was  skillful,  ventured  on 
an  operation  which  at  that  time  had  scarcely  been  attempted, 
or  even  thought  of.  It  proved  entirely  successful.  The 
gratitude  of  the  father  was  shown  by  a  munificent  present 
of  gold  and  jewels  ;  that  of  the  daughter  by  the  gift  of  her 
heart.  One  of  the  very  first  objects  on  which  her  eyes 
rested  when  the  bandage  was  permitted  to  be  removed  was 
the  form  of  the  young  physician  who  had  restored  to  her 
one  of  the  greatest  joys  of  life.  Under  any  circumstances 
it  was  likely  to  please  her  ;  and  Demoleon  was  in  the  bloom 
of  early  manhood,  and  his  fair  complexion  and  golden  hair 
showed  in  attractive  contrast  to  the  swarthy  hues  of  her 
countrymen.  The  result  was  that  she  fell  deeply  in  love. 
Demoleon  wiis  not  without  prudence,  and  would  have 
hesitated  to  listen  to  any  promptings  of  his  own  heart,  for 
he  too  had  been  greatly  impressed  by  the  beauty  and  grace 
as  well  as  by  the  pathetic  patience  of  the  sufferer.  Amestris 
— ^that  was  the  young  lady's  name  —  guessed  readily 
enough  that  the  physician  would  not  venture  to  speak,  and 


CALLIAS.  245 

she  took  the  aaatter  into  her  own  hands.  She  did  not  speak 
herself ;  for  that,  passionate  as  was  her  afltection,  would  have 
been  impossible ;  but  she  got  some  one  to  speak  for  her. 
Her  nurse — the  nurse  was  generally  the  confidante  of  an- 
tiquity— undertook  the  task  of  communicating  with  the 
young  man.  One  day  she  gave  him  a  pomegranate,  sayiag 
at  the  same  time  that  he  would  lind  the  fruit  especially 
sweet.  Her  words  would  have  seemed  ordinary'  enough  to 
anyone  that  might  have  happened  to  hear  them  ;  but  the 
young  physician,  whose  feelings  made  him  susceptible, 
suspected,  he  could  not  say  why.  a  particular  meaning. 
Opening  the  fruit  he  found  a  ling  engraved  with  a  single 
Greek  word — Be  Bold.  The  next  day  he  thanked  the  giver 
of  the  fruit  with  emphasis.  "  It  was  sweet  to  the  core,"  he 
said. 

After  that  the  '  affair  proceeded  rapidly.  The  young 
man,  who,  as  may  be  guessed,  did  not  hurry  the  case  of  his 
patient,  found  an  opportunity  of  declaring  his  love,  and  in 
the  following  summer  the  two  lovers  fled  together.  All  the 
arrangements  had  been  carefully  made.  The  girl  feigned 
sickness,  and  the  physician  prescribed  a  residence  among 
the  hills  and  a  simpler  life  and  plainer  diet  than  the  patient 
was  likely  to  get  in  her  father's  house.  Her  foster-mother 
was  the  wife  of  a  sheep  master  who  rented  some  extensive 
pastures  on  the  hills  of  Southern  Armenia,  and  it  was  settled 
ttiat  Amestris  should  pay  her  a  visit.  The  lady  was  sent  off 
under  a  small  escort,  no  one  dreaming  that  the  family  of  an 
influential  noble  would  be  molested  on  its  journey.  Yet, 
curiously  enough,  a  band  of  brigands  was  bold  enough  to 
enter  the  caravansenii  where  the  party  was  lodging  on  the 
fourth  night  after  their  departure  from  Susa.  Certainly  the 
keeper  of  the  inn,  and,  possibly,  the  commander  of  the 
escort,  had  been  bribed — Demoleon's  successful  practice  had 


246  CALLIAS. 

put  him  in  tlie  comtaand  of  as  mucli  money  as  lie  wanted. 
For  a  long  time  Amestris  absolutely  disappeared.  Her 
father  searched  everywhere  and  offered  munificent  rewards 
for  information,  but  he  could  find  and  hear  nothing.  No 
one  knew  that  a  cpuple  of  travellers,  who  might  have  been 
two  brothers  journeying  in  company  and  followed  by  three 
well  armed  servants,  were  in  fact  Demoleon,  Amestris,  and 
the  pretended  robbers.  The  party  followed  much  the  same 
route  as  was  afterwards  taken  by  the  Ten  Thousand,  and, 
after  not  a  few  hair-breadth  escai)es,  arrived  in  safety  at  the 
same  destination, — the  city  of  Trapezus. 

Three  years  of  happiness  followed.  Then  the  beautiful 
Persian  died.  She  never  repented  of  having  given 
her  heart  to  the  young  physician,  who  was  the  best 
and  most  affectionate  of  husbands.  But  she  missed  her 
family  and  all  the  associations  of  her  early  life,  and 
pined  away  under  the  loss.  Return  was  impossible ;  she 
could  not  go  back  without  her  husband,  and  to  return 
with  him  would  have  been  to  expose  him,  if  not  herself,  to 
the  certainty  of  death.  The  hopelessness  of  the  situation 
broke  her  heart ;  and  all  her  husband's  skill,  even  the  more 
potent  influence  of  her  husband's  love,  failed  to  work  a  cure. 

The  widower  could  not  prevail  upon  himself  to  leave  the 
place  where  he  had  enjoyed  his  short-lived  happiness.  He 
might  have  gained  wealth  and  fame  in  larger  cities,  but  he 
preferred  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  days  at  Trapezus.  There, 
indeed,  he  was  almost  worshipped.  He  had  a  singularly  light 
and  skillful  hand  ;  his  experience,  though,  of  course,  not  so 
large  as  he  might  have  collected  elsewhere,  was  always 
ready  for  use ;  and  he  had  the  rare,  the  incommunicable 
gift  of  felicitous  guessing — ^guessing  we  call  it,  but  it  is 
really  the  power  of  forming  rapid  conclusions  from  a  number 
of  trifling,  often  half  discerned  indications.    Anyhow  he 


CALLIAS.  247 

achieved  some  very  marvellous  cures ;  perform^ed  with  suc- 
cess operations  which  others  did  not  venture  to  attempt ; 
diagnosed  diseases  with  remarkable  skill,  and  was  extraor- 
dinarily fertile  in  his  expedients.  It  was  specially  charac- 
teristic of  him  that  while  he  was  never  satisfied  till  he  had 
thoroughly  enquired  into  the  causes  of  disease,  he  was  un- 
wearied in  his  efforts  to  relieve  the  inconvenience  and  pain- 
fulness  of  a  patient's  symptoms. 

So  alarming  did  the  condition  of  Callias  become  after  his 
return  from  the  banquet,  that  Demoleon  was  called  in  with- 
out loss  of  time.  All  that  he  could  do  at  the  moment  was 
to  give  a  sleeping  draught,  intending  to  make  a  thorough 
examination  of  the  case  next  morning. 

Shortly  after  sunrise  he  was  by  the  bedside.  Callias  was 
conscious  enough  to  be  able  to  describe  his  feelings  ;  what 
he  said  indicated  plainly  enough  that  his  illness  had 
been  developing  for  some  days  past,  and  had  been  postponed 
by  sheer  courage  and  determination.  It  was  in  fact  some- 
thing like  what  we  call  gastric  fever  ;  and  the  experienced 
physician  saw  enough  to  convince  him  that  he  should  have 
a  hard  battle  to  fight.  The  patient  was  young,  vigorous, 
apparently  sound  of  constitution,  and,  as  far  as  he  could 
learn,  of  temperate  habits.  All  this  was  in  favor  of  recovery  ; 
but  it  was  not  more  than  was  needed  to  give  a  glimpse  of 
hope. 

Demochares,  who  had  a  strong  regard  for  the  young  man, 
as  indeed  everyone  had  that  had  been  brought  into  contact 
with  him,  intercepted  the  physician  as  he  was  leaving  the 
house  after  a  prolonged  examination  of  the  jiatient. 

**  How  do  you  find  him  ?"  he  asked. 

Demoleon  shook  his  head.  The  gesture  was  not  exactly 
despairing,  but  it  indicated  plainly  enough  that  the  situation 
was  serious. 


248  OALLIAS. 

**  You  will  put  him  all  right  before  long?"  returned  the 
merchant,  alarmed  at  the  gravity  of  the  physician's  manner. 

"All  these  things  lie  on  the  knees  of  the  gods,"  said 
Demoleon,  quoting  from  his  favorite  Homer.  (It  was  a 
maxim  of  his  that  a  man  who  did  not  know  his  Homer  was 
little  better  than  a  fool.)  It  may  be  said  that  the  physician 
was  more  than  a  little  brusque  in  manner  and  speech. 
Twenty  years  of  solitary  life  had  made  him  so,  for  since  his 
wife's  death  he  had  held  aloof  from  all  the  social  life  of  the 
place. 

"  What  ails  him?  "  enquired  the  merchant. 

"  A  fever,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

"  Does  i  t  run  high  ?  " 

'  *  Very  high  indeed. ' ' 

"You  have  bled  him,  of  course." 

The  physician's  answers  to  enquiries  were  generally  as 
short  as  the  rules  of  politeness  permitted  ;  occasionally, 
some  of  his  questioners  were  disposed  to  think,  even  shorter ; 
but  there  were  remarks  that  always  made  him  fluent  of 
speech,  though  the  fluency  was  not  always  agreeable  to  his 
audience. 

"Bleed  him,  sir,"  he  cried,  "why  don't  you  say  at  once 
stab  him,  poison  him  ?  No,  sir,  I  have  not  bled  him,  and  do 
not  intend  to." 

"  I  thought  that  it  was  usual  in  such  cases,"  said  the 
merchant  timidly. 

"  Very  likely  you  did,"  answered  Demoleon,  "  and  there 
are  persons,  I  do  not  doubt,  who  would  have  done  it,  per- 
sons, too,  who  ought  to  know  better."  This  was  levelled  at 
a  rival  practitioner  in  the  town  for  whom  he  entertained  a 
most  thorough  contempt.  "Do  you  know,  sir,"  he  went 
on,  "  where  men  leamt  the  practice  of  bleeding  ?  " 

"No,  I  do  not,"  said  Demochares. 


CALL  [AS.  249 

"It  was  from  the  hippopotamus.  That  animal  has  been 
observed  to  bleed  himself.  Doubtless  the  operation  does 
him  good.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  what  is  good  for  an 
animal  as  big  as  a  cott^e  is  good  also  for  a  man.  Doubtless 
there  are  men  for  whom  it  is  good.  When  I  have  to  deal 
with  a  mountain  of  a  man,  one  of  your  city  dignitaries 
bloated  by  rich  feeding,  by  chines  of  beef  and  pork  and 
flagons  of  rich  wine,  I  don't  hesitate  to  bleed  him.  His 
thick  skin,  his  rolls  of  fat  flesh,  seem  to  require  it.  In  fact 
he  is  a  human  hippopotamus.  But  to  bleed  a  spare  young 
fellow,  who  has  been  going  through  months  of  labor  and 
hard  living  would  be  to  kill  him.  I  wonder  that  you  can 
suggest  such  a  thing," 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  the  merchant  humbly. 

"  Happily  no  harm  is  done,"  replied  the  physician,  cooling 
down  a  little.  "  And,  after  all,  this  is  not  your  business, 
and  you  may  be  excused  for  your  ignorance,  but  there  are 
others,"  he  went  oflf  muttering  in  a  low  voice,  "  who  ought 
to  know  better,  and  ought  to  be  punished  for  such  folly.  It 
is  sheer  murder." 

I  do  not  intend  to  describe  the  course  of  the  long  illness 
of  which  this  was  the  beginning.  There  were  times  when 
even  the  hopefulness  of  the  physician — and  his  hopefulness 
was  one  of  his  strongest  and  most  helpful  qualities— failed 
him.  Relapse  after  relapse,  coming  with  disheartening 
frequency,  just  when  he  had  seemed  to  have  gathered  a 
little  strength,  brought  him  close  to  the  gates  of  death. 

"  I  have  done  all  that  I  can,"  said  Demoleon  one  evening 
to  Epicharis  the  nurse.  "  If  anyone  is  to  save  him,  it 
must  be  you.  If  you  want  me,  send  for  me,  of  course. 
Otherwise  I  shall  not  come.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  this 
fine  young  fellow  dying,  when  there  are  hundreds  of  worth- 
less brutes  whom  the  earth  would  be  better  without." 


250  CA  LLIAS. 

Epicharis  never  lost  heart ;  for  a  nurse  to  lose  heart  is 
more  fatal  than  the  physician's  despair.  For  nearly  a  week 
she  scarcely  slept.  Not  a  single  opportunity  of  administer- 
ing some  strengthening  food  did  she  lose — for  now  the  fever 
had  passed,  and  the  danger  lay  in  the  excessive  exhaustion. 
At  last  her  patience  was  rewarded.  The  sick  man  turned 
the  corner,  and  Demolepn,  summoned  at  last,  to  alleviate, 
he  feared,  the  last  agony,  found,  to  his  inexpressible  delight, 
that  the  Cure  was  really  begun. 

"  You  are  the  physician,"  he  cried,  as  he  seized  the  nurse's 
hand  and  kissed  it ;  "I  am  only  a  fool." 

Winter  had  passed  into  spring,  and  spring  into  summer, 
before  Callias  could  be  pronounced  out  of  danger.  Even 
then  his  recovery  was  slow.  Some  months  were  spent  in  a 
mountain  village  where  the  bracing  air  worked  wonders  in 
giving  him  back  his  strength.  As  the  cold  weather  came 
on  he  returned  to  his  conafortable  home  in  Trapezus. 
Though  scarcely  an  invalid,  he  was  still  a  little  short  of 
perfect  recovery.  Besides  it  was  not  the  time  for  travelling. 
Anyhow  it  was  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  and  now 
more  than  twelve  months  from  the  time  of  his  first  illness, 
when  hcM'as  pronounced  fit  to  travel.  Even  then  it  was 
only  something  like  fiat  rebellion  on  the  part  of  his  patient 
that  induced  Demoleon  to  give  way.  The  young  naan  was 
wearying  for  home  and  friends.  He  had  heard  nothing  of 
them  for  several  months,  for  communication  was  always 
stopped  during  the  winter  between  Athens  and  the  ports  of 
the  Euxine,  while  the  eastward  bound  ships  that  always 
started  after  the  dangerous  season  of  the  equinox  had  passed, 
had  not  yet  arrived. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

BACK  TO  ATHENS. 

CA1.LLAS  started  about  the  middle  of  April,  according  to 
our  reckoning.  His  journey  to  the  Bosphonis  was  much 
retarded  by  contrary  winds.  For  some  days  no  progress 
could  be  made,  and  it  was  well  into  May  before  he  reached 
Byzantium.  There  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  passage 
in  a  Spartan  despatch- boat,  which  took  him  as  far  as  the 
port  of  Corinth,  thus  carrying  him,  of  course,  beyond  his 
destination,  but  to  a  point  from  which  it  was  easy  for  him 
to  find  his  way  to  Athens.  It  was  about  the  beginning  of 
June  when  he  landed  at  the  Piraeus.  He  did  not  doubt  for 
a  moment  about  the  place  where  his  first  visit  was  due.  The 
fact  was  that  he  had  no  near  relations.  The  kinsman  who 
was  his  legal  guardian  had  always  given  up  the  business  of 
looking  after  his  ward's  property  to  Hippocles;  and  now 
that  Callias  was  his  own  master,  there  was  little  more  than 
a  friendly  acquaintance  between  the  two  cousins.  The 
alien's  house  was,  he  felt,  his  real  home,  nor  had  he  given 
up  the  hope  that  in  spite  of  Hermioue's  strongly  expressed 
determination,  he  might  some  day  become  a  member  of  his 
family. 

Hippocles  happened  to  have  just  returned  from  his  busi- 
ness at  the  shipyard,  when  the  young  Athenian  presented 
himself  at  the  gate.  Nothing  could  be  warmer  than  the 
welcome  he  gave  his  visitor. 


^2  CALLIAS. 

"Now  Zeus  and  Athene  be  thanked  for  this,"  he  cried  as 
he  wrung  the  young  man's  hand.  "  That  you  had  come 
back  safely  from  the  country  of  the  Great  King  I  heard. 
Your  friend  Xenophon  told  me  so  much  in  a  letter  that  I 
had  from  him  about  a  year  ago.  Then  I  heard  from  him 
that  you  were  dangerously  ill.  After  that  all  was  a 
blank,  and  I  feared  the  worst.  But  why  not  a  word  all 
this  time?" 

"Pardon  me, my  dear  friend,  I  think  I  may  say  that  it 
was  not  my  fault.  For  months  I  was  simply  too  ill  to  write. 
When  I  came  back  to  Trapezus,  the  winter  had  begun,  and 
there  were  no  more  ships  sailing  westward.  I  should  have 
written  when  communications  were  opened  again,  but  I  was 
always  in  hopes  of  being  allowed  by  the  physician  to  start, 
and  I  had  a  fancy  for  bringing  my  own  news.  And  how 
are  you?  " 

"  I  am  well  enough,"  replied  Hippocles,  "but  we  have 
been  passing  through  times  bad  enough  to  shorten  any 
man's  life.  I  don't  speak  of  trade.  There  have  been 
troubles  there,  but  when  one  has  ventures  all  over  the 
world,  it  does  not  matter  very  much  as  far  as  profits  are 
concerned,  if  things  do  not  go  right  at  one  place  or  another. 
It  has  been  the  state  of  home  aflfairs  that  has  been  the 
heaviest  burden  to  bear.  I  thought  we  had  touched  the 
bottom  when  the  city  had  to  surrender  to  Lysander.  But 
it  was  not  so,  and  I  might  have  known  better.  The  Spar- 
tans, of  course,  upset  the  democracy." 

"Well,"  interrupted  Callias,  "  I  should  have  thought  that 
that  would  not  have  been  by  any  means  an  altogether  un- 
mixed evil." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hippocles,  "  and  there  have  been  times  when 
I  have  been  ready  to  think  the  same.  But  wait  till  you  see 
an  oligarchy  in  power,  really  in  power,  I  mean,  not  with  a 


CALLJA'S.  253 

possible  appeal  to  the  people,  and  so  a  chance  of  having  to 
answer  for  themselves  before  them,  but  with  a  strong 
foreign  garrison  behind  them.  We  had  that  state  of  things 
in  Athens  for  more  than  half  a  year.  One  might  almost 
say  that  it  was  like  a  city  taken  by  storm.  No  man's  life 
was  safe  unless  he  was  willing  to  do  the  bidding  of  the  Ty- 
rants—the '  Thirty  Tyrants  '  was  the  nickname  of  the  men 
that  were  in  power  in  those  days.  Who  would  have  thought 
that  Theramenes  would  ever  have  been  regretted  by  honest 
men  ?  Yet  it  was  so.  He  thought  his  colleagues  were  going 
too  far,  and  opposed  them.  He  was  carrying  the  Senate 
with  him,  for  many  besides  him  were  beginning  to  feel  un- 
comfortable ;  so  they  murdered  him.  The  Thirty  had,  you 
must  know,  a  sort  of  sham  general  assembly —three  thousand 
citizens  picked  out  of  the  whole  number  as  holding  strong 
oligarcliical  opinions.  Amongst  the  laws  that  they  had  made 
one  was  that  none  of  these  Three  Thousand  were  to  be  con- 
demned without  a  vote  of  the  Senate.  The  name  of  Thera- 
menes was,  of  course,  on  the  list,  and,  as  he  had  a  majority 
of  the  Senate  with  him,  he  seemed  safe.  Well  what  did 
Critias,  who  was  the  leader  of  the  violent  party,  do  ?  He 
filled  the  outer  circle  of  the_  Senate  house  with  anned  men, 
tlie  Senate,  you  must  understand,  sitting  in  the  middle  sur- 
rounded by  them.  Then  he  got  up  and  said,  '  A  good 
president,  when  he  sees  the  body  over  which  he  presides 
about  to  be  duped,  does  not  suffer  them  to  follow  their  own 
counlel.  Theramenes  has  dui^ed  you,  and  I  and  these  men 
liere  will  not  suffer  one  who  is  the  enemy  of  his  country  to 
do  so  any  longer.  I  have  therefore  struck  his  name  off  the 
list  of  the  Three  Thousand.  This  leaves  me  and  my  col- 
leagues free  to  deal  with  him^  without  your  assent.*  The 
Senate  murmured,  but  dared  do  nothing  more.  The  officers 
came  and  dragged  the  man  from  the  altar  to  which  he  was 


2»4  CALLIAS. 

clinging.  An  liour  afterwards  he  had  drunk  tlie  hemloels. 
The  gods  below  be  propitious  to  him,  for  great  as  were  his 
naisdeeds  he  died  in  a  good  cause  and  as  a  brave  man  should 
die.*  Things  have  not  been  so  bad  since  the  Thirty  were 
upset,  but  there  is  a  sad  story  to  tell  you." 

Callias  paused  awhile.  At  last  he  screwed  up  his  courage 
to  put  a  question  which  he  had  both  longed  and  feared  to 
put  ever  since  he  had  set  foot  in  the  house. 

"  And  your  daughter,  is  she  well  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  well." 

"And  still  with  you?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  at  home,"  briefly  answered  the  father. 

Hermione  had  in  fact,  refused  several  offers  which  every 
one  else  had  thought  highly  eligible.  Hippocles,  though  by 
no  means  anxious  to  lose  a  daughter  who  was  not  only  a 
companion  but  a  counsellor,  was  growing  anxious  at  what 
appeared  her  manifest  deteimination  to  remain  single.  He 
would  have  dearly  liked  to  have  a  son-in-law  who  would  be 
able  to  take  up  in  time  the  burden  of  his  huge  business,  a 
burden  which  he  began  to  feel  already  somewhat  heavy  for 
his  strength.  Callias  would  have  been  entirely  to  his  heart, 
but  he  had  accepted,  though  not  without  great  reluctance, 
his  daughter's  views  on  this  subject.  That  she  should  deny 
the  young  Athenian's  suit,  and  yet  for  his  sake  dismiss  all 
other  suitors — and  this  he  began  to  suspect  to  be  the  fact — 
seemed  to  his  practical  mind  a  quite  unreasonable  course  of 

action.     When  a  distant  kinsman  from  Italy,  a  handfome 

*  The  last  scene  of  his  life  is  described  by  Xenophon.  I  give  the  pas- 
sage with  some  explanation.  When  he  drank  the  fetal  cup  he  threw 
the  dregs  on  the  floor  with  the  peculiar  jerk  given  in  playing  the  game 
of  kottabos.  This  game  had  several  forms,  but  the  feature  common  to 
them  aU  was  the  heaving  of  wine  out  of  a  cup.  Sometimes  the  object 
seems  to  have  been  a  kind  of  fortune  telling.  A  guest  when  he  had 
flnisbed  his  cup  would  jerk  out  any  dregs  that  might  be  left.  At  the 
same  time  he  named  the  guest  wh*  was  to  drink  next,  and  the  sound 
made  by  the  drops  falling  was  supposed  to  give  some  omen  good  or  bad. 
"  To  the  gracious  Critias,"  said  Theramenes.  It  was  to  be  a  prophecy 
of  his  iJate.  As  a  matter  of  fact  Critias  fell  a  few  weeks  afterwards  in  a 
battle  with  Thrasybulus  and  the  exiles  of  the  democratic  party. 


CALLIAS.  255 

youth  of  gracious  manners  and  of  unexceptionable  character, 
with  even  a  tincture  of  culture,  was  emphatically  refused, 
Hippocles  ventured  a  remonstrance.  Its  reception  was  such 
that  he  resolved  never  under  any  circumstances  to  repeat  it. 
Hermione  had  been  always  the  most  obedient  of  daughters, 
but  this  roused  her  to  open  rebellion.  "Father,"  she  said, 
"in  this  matter  I  am  and  must  be  a  freeborn  Italian.  A 
Greek  father  can  arrange  a  marriage  for  his  daughter,  but 
you  must  not  think  of  it.  I  shall  give  myself  as  my  mother 
gave  herself  before  me — if  I  could  find  one  as  worthy  as  she 
did,"  and  she  caught  her  father's  hand  and  kissed  it,  break- 
ing at  the  same  time  into  a  passion  of  tears.  "  Forgive  me," 
she  went  on  in  a  broken  voice,  "for  setting  up  myself 
against  you  ;  but  if  you  love  me,  never  speak  on  this  subject 
again."    And  her  father  resolved  that  he  never  would. 

The  young  Athenian  felt  a  glow  of  renewed  hope  pass 
through  him  at  the  father's  reply,  studiously  brief  and  cold 
as  it  was.  Anyhow  Hermione  was  not  married.  What 
could  ever  occur  to  change  her  purpose  he  did  not  care  to 
speculate.  Nevertheless,  as  long  as  she  did  not  belong  to 
another,  he  need  not  despair. 

"  You  will  dine  with  me  of  course,"  said  Hippocles  to  his 
visitor,  "  by  good  luck  I  have  invited  Xenophon.  Doubtless 
that  is  he,"  he  went  on,a8aknockwas  heard  at  the  door. 

A  few  moments  aftt>rwards  a  slave  introduced  Xenophon  ; 
and  before  the  two  friends  had  finished  their  greetings  it 
was  announced  that  dinner  had  been  served. 

Hermione  was  not  present  at  the  meal,  nor  did  her  father 
make  any  excuse  for  her  absence.  The  presence  of  any 
guest  not  belonging  to  the  regular  family  circle,  was  sufflcieUt 
to  account  for  it ;  and  Callias,  though  he  hoped  against  hoije 
to  see  her,  could  not  but  acknowledge  to  himself  that  a 
meeting  would  have  been  highly  embarrassing. 


256  VALLIAS, 

Conversation  did  not  flag  during  the  meal.  When  it  was 
finished,  the  host  excused  himself  on  the  score  of  having 
some  business  matters  on  hand  which  did  not  brook  delay ; 
and  Xenophon  and  Callias  were  left  to  talk  over  each  other's 
adventures. 

When  Callias  had  told  the  story  with  which  my  readers 
are  already  acquainted,  Xenophon  proceeded  to  give  him  a 
brief  outline  of  his  fortunes  since  they  had  parted. 

"Well,  my  dear  Callias,"  he  said,  "  you  didnotlose  much 
by  not  being  with  us.  While  we  were  in  danger,  we  stuck 
fairly  together,  though  there  were  always  cowardly  and 
selfish  fellows  who  thought,  not  of  the  general  welfare,  but 
only  of  their  own  skins  or  their  own  pockets.  But  when 
we  were  safe  at  the  coast  and  among  friends,  then  there 
arose  endless  division.  And,  indeed,  I  must  allow  that  the 
situation  of  the  army  was  very  trying.  Here  were  thousands 
of  men  who  lived  by  their  pay,  and  there  was  no  paymaster. 
I  had  a  scheme  of  my  own  which  would  really  have  kept  us 
together.  If  it  could  have  been  carried  out,  the  gathering 
of  the  Ten  Thousand,  even  though  it  had  failed  of  its  first 
object,  would  not  have  been  altogether 'in  vain.  I  wanted 
to  found  a  new  Greek  colony.  We  might  have  taken 
Pharis  or  some  other  city  of  the  barbarians ;  and  if  only  half 
of  my  comrades  had  been  willing  to  stay,  we  might  have 
made  a  rich  and  powerful  place  of  it  before  long.  But  it  was 
not  to  be.  Perhaps  I  was  not  worthy  of  being  the  founder 
of  such  a  colony  ;  anyhow  the  scheme  came  to  nothing.  I 
will  tell  you  how  it  was.  You  remember  Silanus,  the  sooth- 
sayer, I  never  trusted  the  man.  He  was  quite  capable  of 
garbling  signs  to  suit  his  own  advantage.  However  I 
could  not  help  going  to  him  on  this  occasion,  as  he  was  the 
chief  of  his  craft.  So  I  said,  '  Offer  sacrifices  and  determine 
the  omens  concerning  this  scheme  of  a  new  colony.'     Now 


OALLIAS.  257 

Silauus  was  about  the  only  man  who  had  any  money  in  his 
pocket.  Cyrus  had  given  him  three  thousand  darics  *  for  a 
prophecy  that  had  come  true,  and  he  wanted  to  get  home 
with  the  spoil.  So  he  was  altogether  against  the  idea  of  a 
colony.  When  he  had  sacrificed  he  could  not  say  that  the 
omens  were  altogether  against  the  scheme  ;  for  I  knew 
nearly  as  much  about  the  matter  as  he  did.  What  he  did 
say  was  that  there  were  indications  of  a  conspiracy  against 
me.  And  he  took  good  care  to  make  them  true,  for  he 
spread  about  reports  of  what  I  was  going  to  do  that 
turned  the  army  against  me.  So  the  scheme  came  to 
nothing. 

"  This  did  one  good  thing,  however,  for  it  helped  us  on  our 
way  home.  Trapezus  and  the  other  colonies  in  the  east  of 
the  Euxine  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  a  new  Greek  city  which 
might  turn  out  to  be  a  formidable  rival.  So  they  offered  to 
transport  the  army  to  the  Hellespont  and  to  furnish  pay 
from  the  first  new  moon  after  the  departure.  This  seemed 
a  good  offer,  and  I  recommended  the  soldiers  to  close  with 
it,  and  said  that  I  gave  up  my  scheme.  '  Only,'  I  said,  *  let 
us  all  keep  together  and  let  anyone  who  leaves  us  be 
counted  a  malefactor.'  For  I  did  not  choose  that  my  friend 
the  soothsayer  should  get  the  better  of  it. 

"Well,  we  set  sail ;  our  first  halt  was  atSinope,  which  is 
roughly  speaking,  about  halfway  between  Trapezus  and 
Byzantium.  Tlien  the  army  wanted  to  make  me  commander- 
in-cliief.  Happily  the  omen  was  against  it,  and  I  was  able 
to  decline.  We  started  again,  and  got  to  Heraclea.  The 
l^eople  were  very  hospitable;  but  some  scoundrels  in  the 
army  wanted  to  lay  a  contribution  upon  the  city.  Chiriso- 
phus,  the  Spartan— I  should  have  told  you  that  on  my  re- 
fusal tlie  army  gave  him  the  chief  command — refused  to 

•About  815.000. 


258  CALL  J  AS. 

have  anything  to  do  with  such  an  abominable  business,  and 
I  backed  him  up.  Of.  course  the  city  shut  its  gates  against 
us,  and  we  got  nothing  at  all.  After  this  the  army  broke  up 
into  three.  One  of  the  divisions,  made  up  of  Arcadians  and 
Achaeans,  the  most  unscrupulous  and  greedy  of  the  whole 
number,  got  into  serious  trouble  when  they  were  trying  to 
plunder  the  country,  and  I  had  to  rescue  them,  for  two 
thousand  men  had  stuck  to  me  when  the  army  was  thus 
broken  up.  Then  the  other  division  under  Chirisophus 
were  nearly  as  badly  off,  and  I  had  to  get  them  out  of  a 
scrape.  After  this  they  came  together  again,  and  it  was 
made  a  matter  of  death  for  anyone  to  propose  a  separation. 

•'  It  was  well  we  did,  for  everyone  seemed  bent  ©n  treating 
us  as  villauously  as  possible.  Would  you  believe  that  the 
Spartan  governor  of  Byzantium  actually  sold  as  slaves  four 
hundred  soldiers  who  had  found  their  way  into  the  city?  It 
is  true  that  they  were  stragglers  and  had  no  business  there  ; 
but  it  was  an  abominable  act.  At  last,  one  Seuthes,  who 
had  been  chief  of  the  Odrysians,  and  deposed  by  a  usurper, 
offered  to  take  the  whole  army  into  his  pay,  if  we  would 
help  him  to  recover  his  dominions.  Every  man  was  to  re- 
ceive a  stater*  per  month,  the  captains  twice,  and  the 
generals  four  times  as  much.  Also  he  offered  land,  oxen 
to  plough  it  with,  and  a  city  with  walls.  In  fact  the  colony 
scheme  seemed  likely  to  be  carried  out  after  all.  To  me  he 
was  very  munificent  in  his  promises.  I  was  to  have  one  of 
his  daughters  to  wife  and  a  city  of  my  own." 

*'  What  did  you  say  to  that?  "  said  Callias. 

*'  Well,  the  only  one  of  these  things  that  Seuthes  really 
had  in  his  possession  was  the  daughter.'  I  saw  the  young 
lady,  handsome  I  will  allow,  and  tall ;  but,  oh,  such  a 
savage !  As  for  the  money,  and  the  land,  and  the  oxe;n,  and 
the  towns,  walled  and  un  walled,  we  had  to  get  themi  for  him 

•  Something  less  (hap  J6. 


CALLIAS.  259 

and  then  have  our  portion  back.  However,  it  seemed  to  me 
the  best  thing  for  the  army  to  do,  and  I  advised  the  men  to 
that  effect,  and  they  agreed,  only  it  was  provided  tliat  we 
were  never  to  march  more  than  seven  days'  journey  from 
the  seaeoast.  We  had  all  had  enough  of  marches  up  the 
country.  Then  Seuthes  gave  us  a  feast  by  way  of  striking 
the  bargain. 

"  It  was  a  wonderful  scene,  and  some  day  I  must  tell  you 
all  about  it.  But  I  must  own  that  for  a  time  I  felt  as  un- 
comfortable as  ever  I  did  in  my  life.  After  dinner  when  the 
bowl  had  passed  round  two  or  tliree  times,  in  came  a  Thra- 
eian  leading  a  white  horse.  He  took  the  bowl  from  the  cup- 
bearer, and  said,  '  Here  is  a  health  to  thee,  King  Seuthes. 
hot  me  give  you  this  horse.  Mounted  on  him  thou  shalt 
take  whom  thou  wilt,  and  wlien  thou  retirest  from  the 
battle  thou  shalt  dread  no  pursuer.'  Then  another  gave  a 
slave,  and  another  some  robes  for  the  Queen,  and  a  fourth  a 
silver  saucer  and  a  finely  embroidered  carpet.  All  the  while 
I  was  sitting  in  an  agony,  for  I  was  in  the  place  of  honor, 
and  liad  nothing  to  offer.  However  'our  Lady  of  Xthens,' 
who  is  the  insplrer  of  clever  devices,  and,  it  may  he  Father 
Bacchus  also,  for  I  had  drained  two  or  three  cups,  helped  me 
out  of  my  difficulty.  When  the  cup-bearer  handed  me  the 
goblet,  I  rose  and  said,  '  King  Seuthes,  I  present  you  with 
myself  and  these  my  trusty  comrades.  With  their  help  you 
will  recover  the  lands  that  were  your  forefathers'  and  gain 
many  new  lands  with  them.  Nor  shall  you  win  lands  only, 
but  horses  many,  and  men  many,  and  fair  women  also.' 
Up  got  the  King,  at  this,  and  we  drained  tlie  cup  together. 

*•  Seuthes  was  not  going  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his  feet. 
When  we  left  the  banqueting  tent— this  was  at  sunset  be- 
cause we  wanted  to  set  the  guards  about  our  camp — the  King, 


260  CALLTAS. 

who,  for  all  his  potations,  was  as  sober  as  a  water-drinker, 
sent  for  the  generals  and  said,  '  My  neighbors  have  not  yet 
heard  of  this  alliance  of  ours.  Let  us  go  and  take  them  by 
surprise.'  And  so  we  did.  We  went  that  night  and  brought 
back  booty  enough  to  pay  for  our  day's  pay,  I  warrant  you. 

*'  Well,  we  went  on  fighting  for  Seuthes  for  two  months  till 
we  had  conquered  the  whole  countryside  for  him.  Then 
the  conquered  tribes  flocked  to  him — give  a  Thracian  plenty 
to  eat  and  drink  and  good  pay  and  he  will  fight  in  any 
quarrel — till  he  did  not  want  any  more.  That  perhaps  was 
not  to  be  wondered  at,  but,  like  the  mean  hound  that  he  was, 
he  tried  to  get  out  of  paying  us. 

"  Just  at  this  moment  when  I  thought  that  we  should  have 
to  settle  with  the  sword  for  judge,  Sparta  declared  war 
against  the  Persians  and  wanted  all  the  men  she  could  get. 
So  Thimbron,  their  commander-in-chief,  came  over  and  en- 
gaged the  men  at  the  same  rate  of  pay  that  Seuthes  was 
giving  or  rather  promising.  We  never  got  anything  but  a 
wretched  fragment  from  the  King. 

"  By  this  time  I  had  had  about  enough  of  campaigning  of 
this  fashion.  Not  a  drachma  had  I  made.  In  fact  I  was 
poorer  than  when  I  set  out.  I  had  even  to  sell  my  favorite 
horse,  but  Thimbron  bought  it  back  for  me. 

"  Just  at  the  last  I  had  a  stroke  of  luck.  That  is  another 
story  I  must  tell  you  some  day.  But  fortunately  we  took 
prisoners  a  Persian  noble  with  his  wife  and  children,  his 
horses  and  cattle  and  all  that  he  had.  The  next  day  I  left 
the  army,  but  before  I  went  they  gave  me  the  pick  of  the 
beasts  of  all  kinds.  It  was  a  handsome  present,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"So,  on  the  whole,"  said  Callias,  "you  came  pretty  well 
out  of  the  business.  You  returned  at  least  not  poorer  than 
you  went,  you  have  won  for  yourself  a  name  which  those 


CALLIAS.  261 

who  come  after  us  will  not,  I  take  it,  forget,  and  you  heli)ed, 
at  least,  to  save  the  lives  of  many  Greeks  from  perishing 
shamefully  by  the  hands  of  the  barbarians.  Are  you  not 
content?  " 

"Yes,"  replied ,  Xenophon,  "all  the  more  content  on 
account  of  one  thing  you  have  not  mentioned.  For  this  in- 
deed pleases  me  in  the  matter  that  we  Greeks  have  now 
found  a  way  by  which  we  may  both  go  to  the  capital  of  the 
Persians  and  return  therefrom.  Verily,  I  sometimes  wish 
we  had  not  been  so  eager  to  retreat,  but  had  stopped  and 
made  ourselves  masters  of  the  country  of  our  enemies.  Per- 
haps we  were  not  strong  enough  ;  but,  if  I  can  see  so  far  into 
the  future,  some  one  will  do  this  hereafter,  and  Greece  will 
be  avenged  of  all  that  she  has  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the 
barbarians." 

"  The  Master  will  be  glad,"  Callias  went  on  after  a  pause. 

The  "  Master  "  of  course  was  Socrates.  Xenophon  looked 
at  the  young  man  with  some  surprise. 

"You  seem  very  confident  on  this  point.  He  indeed  was 
always  somewhat  doubtful,  and  certainly  there  are  great 
difficulties  when  you  come  to  look  into  it  a  little  more 
closely." 

' '  I  really  do  not  know  what  you  mean, ' '  answered  Callias ; 
"you  have  seen  him  I  suppose,  for  you  have  been  in  Athens 
several  days  and  know  what  he  thinks." 

For  a  few  moments  Xenophon  stared  at  the  speaker  in 
utter  perplexity.  Then  a  light  broke  in  upon  him.  "  What," 
he  cried,  "  you  do  not  know  ?    You  have  not  heard  ?  " 

"  Know  what  ?  Have  heard  what  ?  You  speak  in  riddles." 

"Thatheisdead." 

The  young  man  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  After  a 
few  minutes  he  recovered  calmness  enough  to  speak.  "  No, 
indeed,  I  did  not  know  it.    I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing. 


282  CALLIA8. 

He  seemed  so  full  of  life  and  vigor.  Yet  he  must  have  been 
an  old  man,  not  far  from  seventy  I  suppose,  for  he  was 
more  than  forty  at  Delium.*    Tell  me  of  what  did  he  die?  " 

"They  killed  him." 

"  Killed  him  !  ^Who  killed  him?  " 

"  The  people  of  Athens." 

*  The  battle  of  Delium  (between  the  Bceotiant^  and  the  Athenians)  was 
fought  In  424.  The  precise  age  of  Socrates  at  the  time  of  his  death  was 
seventy. 


CHAPTEE  XXVni. 

THE  STOBY  OF  THE  TRIAL. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  the  young  man  was  pros- 
trated by  the  news  which  he  had  just  heard,  for  the  blow 
fell  upon  him  with  a  suddenness  that  seemed  to  increase  the 
pain  tenfold.  He  had  not  been  indeed  on  the  same  intimate 
terms  of  friendship  with  the  great  philosopher  as  the  older 
disciples,  Crito,  Simmias,  Cebes,  Phaedo  and  others  had 
been.  But  he  had  regarded  him  with  an  aflfection  and  ad- 
miration that  was  nothing  less  than  enthusiastic ;  and  he 
had  looked  forward  to  getting  his  advice  about  the  future 
conduct  of  his  life  with  a  hopeful  eagerness  that  made  dis- 
appointment very  bitter.  To  find  himself  in  Athens  after 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  through  which  he  had  passed, 
and  to  learn  that  the  man  without  whom  Athens  scarcely 
seemed  itself,  was  lost  to  him  forever,  was  a  terrible  shock. 
Xenophon's  sorrow  had  not  been  less  keen,  but  he  had  been 
prepared  for  his  loss  by  at  least  a  few  days'  previous  knowl- 
edge. The  news  had  reached  him  while  he  was  on  his  way, 
and  the  first  shock  was  over  when  he  landed.  But  there 
had  been  nothing  to  break  the  news  to  Callias.  He  felt  as  a 
son  might  feel  who  returns  home  after  a  long  absence  in 
full  expectation  of  a  father's  greeting,  and  finds  himself  an 
orphan. 

So  overpowered  was  the  young  man  that  he  felt  solitude 
to  be  absolutely  necessary  for  a  time. 


264  CALLIA8. 

"Lftt  me  talk  to  you  about  it  another  day,"  he  said  to 
Xenophon,  "  at  present  I  am  not  master  of  myself." 

Xenophon  clasped  his  friend's  hand  with  a  warm  and 
sympathetic  pressure.  "I  Understand,"  he  said.  "Yet,  I 
think  it  will  conrfort  you  when  you  hear  how  he  bore  him- 
self at  the  last  and  what  he  said.  Come  to  me  to-morrow  ; 
Hippocles  will  tell  you  \vhere  I  live." 

Early  the  next  morning,  Callias  presented  himself  at 
Xenophon' 8  house,  a  modest  little  dwelling,  not  far  from 
the  garden  of  Academus.  He  found  him  in  the  company 
of  some  friends,  most  of  whom  were  more  or  less  known  to 
the  young  man  as  having  been  members  of  the  circle  which 
had  been  accustomed  to  listen  to  the  teaching  of  the  great 
master.  Crito,  Menexenus  and  JEschines,  and  the  two 
Thebans,  Cebes  and  Simmia8,were  among  the  number  ;  and 
there  were  others  whom  he  did  not  recognize.  He  was 
greeted  with  kindness  and  even  distinction.  His  host  had 
evidently  been  giving  a  favorable  account  of  him  to  the 
company. 

"  I  thought  it  best,"  Xenophon  went  on  to  explain,  "to 
ask  some  of  those  who  were  actually  present  when  these 
things  happened,  to  naeet  you.  I  myself,  as  you  know,  was 
not  here  ;  and  it  is  well  that  you  should  hear  a  story  so  im- 
portant from,  eye-witnesses,  men  who  saw  his  demeanor 
with  their  own  eyes,  and  heard  his  words  with  their  own 
ears." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Callias.  "But  tell  me  first  how  it 
was  that  such  things  came  to  pass.  It  seems  incredible  to 
me.  I  have  heard  that  here  and  there  a  man  has  been  found 
so  monstrously  wicked  that  he  could  kill  his  own  father, 
though  Solon  thought  it  so  impossible  a  crime  that  he  would 
impose  no  penalty  on  it.  But  that  a  whole  people  should 
be  stricken  with  such  madness  of  wickedness  seems  to  pass 
all  imaginatiom  or  belief." 


CALLIAH.  266 

"  Ah  !  you  do  not  understand,"  said  Simmias ;  "  I  am  a 
foreigner  you  know ;  and  those  who  look  at  things  from 
outside  often  see  more  of  them  than  they  who  are  within.  I 
had  long  thought  that  Socrates  was  making  many  enemies 
in  Athens.  And  verily  if  he  had  said  such  things  in  miy 
own  city,  as  he  said  here,  I  doubt  whether  he  had  been 
suflfered  to  live  so  long." 

"  But  he  always  spoke  true  things,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  and  things  that  were  to  the  real  profit  of  his  hearers." 

"Just  so,"  replied  Simmias,  "but  that  they  were  true 
and  profitable  did  not  make  them  pleasant,  or  the  speaker 
of  them  welcome.  What,  think  you,  would  happen  to  a 
school-master  if  his  pupils  whom  he  daily  corrects  and  dis- 
ciplines, sometimes  with  hard  tasks  and  sometimes  with 
blows,  were  permitted  to  judge  him,  or  to  a  physician  if 
the  children  whom  he  seeks  to  cure  of  their  ailments  with 
nauseous  drugs,  or,  it  may  be,  with  the  knife  or  cautery, 
had  him  in  their  power  ?  " 

"Truly,  it  might  fare  ill  with  him,"  CaUias  confessed, 
thinking  to  himself  of  certain  angry  thoughts  that  in  his 
own  boyhood  he  had  cherished  against  his  own  teacher  and 
doctor. 

"  Yes,"  said  Crito,  "  Simmias  is  right,  nor  did  this  matter 
escape  the  notice  of  us  Athenians,  though  we  did  not  per- 
ceive it  so  plainly.  You,  I  know,  have  been  much  absent 
from.  Athens  since  you  grew  to  manhood,  yet  you  must  have 
seen  something  of  this.  You  were  here,  for  example,  when 
the  admirals  were  condemned  after  the  battle  at  Arginusae. 
Is  it  not  so?" 

"  I  was  here,"  said  Calllas. 

"  And  you  know  how  Socrates  set  himself  against  the 
will  of  the  people,  refusing  to  put  to  the  vote  a  proposal 


266  CALL  J  AS. 

which  lie  believed  to  be  uucoustitutional.  Well,  he  suffered 
nothing  at  that  time,  because  their  will  prevailed  in  spite 
of  hun.  Yet  we  saw  that  there  were  many  who  remembered 
this  against  him,  and  only  waited  for  the  opportunity  of 
avenging  themselves  upon  him.  Nor  was  he  less  constant 
in  opposing  the  few,  when  he  believed  them  to  be  acting 
wrongfully,  than  in  opposing  the  many.  Listen  now,  to 
what  he  did  and  said  in  the  days  of  the  Thirty.  Were  you 
in  Athens  at  that  time?  " 

"No,"  replied  Callias,  "I  left  the  city,  or  rather  was 
carried  away  from  it — ^'  at  this  there  was  a  generallaugh, 
most  of  the  company  having  heard  of  the  curious  story  of 
his  abduction — "after  the  murder  of  the  generals,  and  did 
not  set  foot  in  it  till  the  other  day." 

"But  you  know  what  manner  of  men  these  Thirty  were." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"  Well,  among  other  vile  things  that  they  did  was  this, 
that  they  put  to  death  many  excellent  men  whom  they 
conceived  to  be  enemies  to  themselves.  Then  Socrates,  in 
that  free  way  of  his,  said,  '  If  a  herdsman  were  so  to  manage 
his  herd  that  the  cattle  became  fewer  and  not  more,  men 
would  consider  him.  a  bad  herdsman.  Still  more  would 
they  consider  him  to  be  a  bad  ruler  of  a  city  who  should  so 
manage  it  that  the  citizens  became  not  more  but  less 
numerous.'  This  being  reported  to  Critias,  who  was  a  chief 
among  the  Thirty,  he  sent  for  Socrates,  and  said  to  him, 
*  There  is  a  law  that  no  man  shall  teach  or  use  the  art  of 
words.'  Socrates  said,  '  Mean  you  by  this,  the  art  of  words 
rightly  spoken  or  the  art  of  words  wrongly  spoken  ?  '  On 
this,  one  Charicles,  who  was  a  colleague  of  Critias,  and  was 
standing  by  him,  broke  in  violently  :  '  Since,  Socrates,  you 
find  it  so  hard  to  understand  an  altogether  easy  thing,  take 
this  as  a  plain  rule,  that  you  are  not  to  talk  with  young  men 


CALLIAS.  267 

at  all. '  '  Truly  I  desire  to  obey  the  law, '  said  Socrates  ;  '  tell 
me  then  what  you  mean  by  young  men.  How  young?  Up 
to  what  age  ? '  Charicles  said,  '  Up  to  thirty,  at  which  age 
men  are  able  to  take  part  in  affairs  of  the  state.'  'But,' 
said  Socrates,  '  if  I  desire  to  buy  a  thing  of  a  man  who  is 
under  thirty,  is  it  permitted  me  to  ask  what  it  costs?' 
'Yes,'  said  Charicles,  'you  may  say  so  much.'  'And  if  a  man 
under  thirty  asks  me  where  Critias  lives  or  Charicles  lives, 
may  I  answer  him?"'  'Yes,  you  may  answer  such  ques- 
tions,' said  Charicles.  Then  Critias  broke  in,  '  But  you  must 
not  talk  about  blacksmiths  and  coppersmiths  and  tanners  ; 
and  indeed  you  have  worn  these  themes  pretty  well  thread- 
bare by  this  time. '  '  Nor  about  righteousness  and  wicked- 
ness and  such  things,  I  suppose,'  said  Socrates.  '  No,  indeed, 
nor  about  herdsmen.  If  you  speak  of  herdsmen  and  of  the 
herd  being  diminished,  tjike  care  that  it  be  not  diminished 
by  one  more,  even  by  you.'  " 

Callias  listened  with  delight.  "Oh,  how  like  him  !"  he 
cried. 

"Yes,  "replied  Crito,  "  like  him  indeed,  and  truly  admirsr 
ble.  But  such  things  do  not  please  those  to  whom  they  are 
spoken,  especially  do  not  please  men  in  power.  Then  con- 
sider the  number  of  empty-headed,  ignorant  fellows  whose 
vanity  and  conceit  he  exposed  every  day  by  his  pitiless 
questioning.  There  was  not  a  pretentious  fool  in  Athens 
whom  he  had  not  at  some  time  or  other  held  up  to  ridicule." 

"  And  they  deserved  it  richly,"  said  Callias. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other,  "  but  I  have  never  found  that  a 
man  liked  punishment  more  because  he  knew  that  he 
deserved  it.  So  you  see  that  the  city  was  full  of  his  enemies. 
And  there  were  some  honest  men  who  really  believed  that 
he  did  harm  by  his  teaching.  What  with  knaves  whom  he 
opposed  with  all  his  might,  and  fools  whom  he  exposed,  and 


288  Q ALL  I  AS. 

1  ight-iiiinded,  wrong-headed  men  whom  he  could  not  help 
offending,  thece  was  a  very  formidable  host  arrayed  against 
him." 

"I  see,"  said  Callias.  "But  they  must  have  had  some 
pretext,  they  eouldaiot  put  any  of  the  things  you  have  been 
speaking  about  into  a  formal  charge.  Tell  me,  what  did 
they  accuse  him  of?  " 

"  Oh,  it  was  the  old  story,  treason  and  blasphemy.  Men 
who  wotfld  have  sold  their  country  for  a  quarter  of  a  talent, 
men  who  believe  in  no  other  gods  than  their  own  lusts,  were 
loud  in  proclaiming  that  Socrates  had  ruined  the  state,  and 
was  teaching  the  young  not  to  worship  the  gods." 

"  Good  heavens  !"  cried  Callias,  "how  dared  they  utter 
such  lies  ?  A  better  patriot,  a  truer  worshipper  of  the  gods 
never  lived." 

"You  are  right ;  yet,  these  were  the  charges  against  him, 
these  and  other  things  equally  absurd,  as  that  he  taught 
the  young  to  despise  their  fathers  and  to  think  meanly  of 
all  their  relatives  and  friends,  as  if  he  himself  were  the  only 
friend  that  was  worth  having  ;  that  he  perverted  words  from 
Homer  and  the  old  poets  to  a  bad  sense,  making  them  mean 
that  no  work  was  disgraceful  so  that  it  brought  in  gain,  and 
that  it  was  lawful  for  kings  and  nobles  to  beat  the  common 
people* — these  were  the  charges  that  they  brought  against 
him.  And  then  they  added  the  accusation  that  Critias 
and  Alcibiades  who  had  done  great  harm  to  Athens  had  both 
been  disciples  of  his." 

*  The  lines  from  Hesiod : 

"  No  labor  mars  an  honest  name ; 
'Tis  only  idleness  is  shame," 
was  one  Instance  (quoted  by  Xenophon  in  the  "  Recollections  of  Soo- 
i-ates  ")  Another  (from  the  same  source)  is  the  story  of  how  Ulysses 
stayed  the  Greeks  from  hurrying  to  their  ships  and  leaving  the  siege  of 
Troy.  The  common  men  he  struck,  but  if  he  found  a  chief  in  the  tribe 
he  only  remonstrated  with  him, 

"  But  if  he  saw  perchance,  some  common  man 
liUnded  with  panic,  clamorous  of  tongue, 
VV'itli  staff  he  smote  him,  adding  blow  to  blame." 


(JALLlAfi.  289 

"But  tell  me,"  said  Callias,  "how  did  tliese  liars  and 
villains  proceed  ?  And  first,  who  were  they  ?  Who  took 
the  lead?  " 

"  One  Meletus  was  the  chief." 

"  What !    The  foolish  poet  whom  everyone  laughs  at  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  very  same.  He  represented  the  poets.  There 
was  one  Lyeon,  of  whom,  I  suppose,  you  never  heard,  who 
represented  the  public  speakers,  and  Anytus,  one  of  those 
who  came  back  with  Thrasybulus.  He  had  been  badly 
treated,  it  is  true,  banished  without  any  good  reason,  but 
only  a  madman  could  have  supposed  that  Socrates  had  had 
anything  to  do  with  it.  These  three  brought  the  indictment. 
It  was  in  these  words : — 

"  '  Socrates  is  guilty  of  a  crime.  He  does  not  acknowledge 
the  gods  whom  the  state  acknowledges,  and  he  introduces 
other  and  new  gods.  He  is  also  guilty  of  corrupting  the 
youth.    The  penalty — death. ' ' ' 

"  But  such  charges  hardly  needed  a  defence.  Is  it  possible 
that  a  number  of  Athenian  j  udges  found  a  verdict  of  guilty  ?'.' 

"  It  was  so  indeed,"  said  Crito,  *'  and  I  am  not  sure  that 
you  will  be  altogether  surprised  when  you  hear  what  the 
accused  said  in  his  own  defence.  I  am  an  old  man  now, 
and  have  watched  the  courts  now  for  many  years ;  and  I 
have  seen  not  a  few  men  who  might  have  escaped  but  for 
what  they  said  in  their  own  behalf.  Now  I  can't  tell  you 
all  that  Socrates  said,  or  even  the  greater  part  of  it.  Our 
friend  Plato  is  going  to  set  it  forth  regularly  in  a  book  that 
he  is  writing.  But  I  can  tell  you  enough  to  make  you  see 
what  I  mean. 

•'After  he  had  dealt  with  various  other  matters — those 
calumnies  for  instance,  that  Aristophanes  set  afloat  about 
him  now  more  than  thirty  years  ago — he  went  on:  *  Some 


270  CALL  J  AS. 

years  ago,  men  of  Athens,  a  certain  Chaerephon — ^you  know 
him  ;  some  of  you  went  into  exile  along  with  him — ^having 
been  my  companion  from  my  youth  up,  ventured  to  go  to 
Delphi,  and  to  propose  this  question  to  the  god:  "  Is  there 
any  man  wiser  than  Socrates?  "  The  Pythia  *  made  reply, 
"  There  is  none  wiser  than  he."  When  I  heard  this  I  said 
to  myself,  what  can  the  god  mean?  He  cannot  teU  a  lie, 
yet  I  am  not  conscious  to  myself  of  possessing  any  kind  of 
wisdom.  So  at  last  I  devised  this  plan.  I  went  to  one  of 
the  men  who  are  reckoned  wise,  thinking  thus  to  test  the 
oracle,  so  that  I  might  say,  here  at  least  is  one  that  is  wiser 
than  I.  Now  when  I  came  to  examine  this  man — he  was 
one  of  our  statesmen,  men  of  Athens, — I  found  that  though 
he  was  accounted  wise  by  many  and  especially  by  himself, 
he  was  not  wise  in  reality.  But  in  vain  I  tried  to  convince 
him,  and  I  even  became  odious  to  him  and  to  many  others 
who  were  present  and  admired  him.  Then  I  thought  to 
myself,  I  am  at  least  wiser  than  this  man,  for  he, not  know- 
ing, thinks  that  he  knows,  while  I  at  least  know  that  I  do 
not  know.  After  this,  I  went  to  the  poets,  tragic,  lyrical, 
and  others,  and  taking  to  them  poems  which  they  had 
written,  asked  of  them  what  they  meant  thereby.  And  I 
found  that  almost  always  those  that  had  not  written  these 
things  knew  better  what  they  meant  than  the  authors.  So 
I  concluded  that  these  also  were  not  wise.  And  at  last  I 
went  to  the  artisans,  knowing  that  they  were  acquainted 
with  many  things  of  which  I  knew  nothing.  And  this, 
indeed,  I  found  to  be  the  case.  But  I  also  found  that,  be- 
cause they  had  mastered  their  own  art,  each  thought  him- 
self very  wise  in  other  things,  things,  too,  of  the  greatest 
importance,  and  that  this  self-conceit  spoilt  their  wisdom. 
These  also  seemed  to  be  less  wise  than  myself.    But  all  the 

time  that  I  was  doing  this  I  knew  that  I  was  making  myself 
*  The  priestess  of  Apollo  at  Delphi. 


CA  LLIAS.  271 

hateful  to  many,  yet,  because  I  was  bound  to  obt^y  the  god 
as  best  I  could,  I  did  not  desist. 

**  *  It  is  true  also  that  many  young  men  hearing  me  thus 
questioning  others  have  found  delight  in  this  employnaent 
and  have  learnt  to  imitate  me.  And  they  have  obtained 
this  result :  they  have  found  many  persons  who  think 
that  they  know  much  but  in  reality  know  nothing.  But 
they  who  are  thus  discovered  are  irritated,  not  so  much 
against  their  questioners,  but  against  me  whom  they  suppose 
to  have  taught  them  this  habit.  Hence  comes  this  fable  of 
a  certain  wicked  Socrates  who  is  said  to  corrupt  the  young 
men. 

"  '  Nevertheless,  O  men  of  Athens,  if  you  this  day  release 
me,  I  shall  not  therefore  cease  to  do  that  which,  as  I  con- 
ceive, the  god  commands.  I  shall  go  about  the  city  seek- 
ing wisdom  ;  nor  shall  I  cease  to  say  to  such  as  come  in  mj' 
way.  My  friend,  can  you,  being  a  citizen  of  Athens,  the 
most  famous  city  of  Greece,  help  being  ashamed  if  you  make 
riches  or  rank  your  highest  aim,  and  care  not  for  that  which 
is  indeed  the  greatest  good  ?  This  shall  I  still  do  to  young 
or  old,  for  it  is  this  that  the  god  orders  me  to  do  ! '  " 
.  " Magnificent !"  cried  Callias,  "but  how  did  the  judges 
take  it  ?    It  was  a  downright  defiance  of  them." 

"Certainly  it  was,  and  so  they  thought  it.  There  was  a 
tremendous  uproar.  When  the  noise  had  ceased,  he  began 
again  : — '  Do  not  clamor  against  me,  men  of  Athens,  but 
hear  me  patiently  ;  'tis  indeed  for  your  own  good  that  you 
should.  For  be  assured  that  putting  me  to  death,  you  will 
harm  yourselves  rather  than  me.  For,  having  rid  your- 
selves of  me,  you  will  not  easily  find  anyone  who  will  do 
for  you  the  office  that  I  have  done,  which  has  been,  I  take 
it,  that  of  a  rider  upon  a  horse  of  good  breed,  indeed,  and 
strong,  but  needing  the  spur.    Such  a  rider  have  I  been  to 


272  CALL!  AS. 

the  city,  sitting;  close  and  exciting  you  continually  by  per- 
suasion and  reproach.  You  will  not  easily  find  another  like 
me ;  and  if  you  are  angry  with  me,  yet  remember  that 
persons  awakened  out  of  sleep  are  angry  with  the  man  who 
rouses  them,  though  it  may  he  to  the  saving  of  their  lives. 
And  remember  this  too :  what  I  have  done,  I  have  done 
without  pay ;  no  one  can  bring  up  this  against  me  that  I 
have  done  anything  for  gain.  If  you  ask  a  proof,  look  at 
my  poverty — that  is  proof  enough. 

"'And  if  anyone  ask  me  why  I  go  about  meddling 
with  every  body  and  giving  them  advice,  and  yet  never 
come  forward  and  give  any  advice  about  matters  of  state,  I 
make  him  this  answer :  There  is  a  voice  within  me,  of 
which  Meletus  idly  speaks  asaf  it  were  another  god,  which 
never  indeed  urges  me  to  do  anything,  but  often  warns  me 
against  doing  this  or  that.  This  same  voice  has  often 
warned  me  against  taking  part  in  public  affairs,  and  rightly 
so  indeed,  for  be  assured  that  if  I  had  so  taken  part,  I  should 
long  ago  have  perished.  And  do  not  be  offended  if  I  tell  you 
the  truth.  No  man  can  be  safe  who  opposes  things  wrong 
and  illegal  that  are  done  by  the  people.  If  he  would  live, 
even  but  for  a  short  time,  he  must  keep  to  a  private  station. 

"  *  Do  you  not  remember,  men  of  Athens,  how  when  you 
had  to  judge  the  admirals  that  did  not  save  the  shipwrecked 
men  at  Arginusse,  I  would  not  put  the  motion  to  the  vote? 
For  though  I  had  never  held  any  public  office  I  was  in  the 
Senate,  and  it  so  chanced  that  my  tribe  that  day  had  the 
presidency.  You  chose  to  judge  all  the  men  together,  act- 
ing wrongfully,  as  you  afterwards  acknowledged.  And  I 
alone  of  all  the  presidents  opposed  this  thing,  and  would 
not  yield,  no  not  when  the  orators  denounced  me,  and 
would  have  joined  me  with  the  accused.  This  was  in  the 
time  of  the  democracy. 


CALLIAS.  273 

" '  Aud  afterwards  when  the  democracy  was  overthrown, 
and  the  oligarchy  was  in  power,  what  happened?  Did  not 
the  Thirty  send  for  me  along  with  four  others  to  their 
council-chamber,  and  bid  us  fetch  Leon  of  Salamis,  that  he 
might  be  put  to  death.  This  they  did,  after  their  habit, 
seeking  to  involve  as  many  as  possible  in  their  wicked 
deeds.  Then  also  I  showed  not  in  words  only,  but  in  deeds 
that  I  cared  not  one  jot  for  death.  For  in  the  chamber  I 
declared  that  I  would  not  do  this  thing,  and  when  we  had 
gone  out,  the  other  four  indeed  went  to  Salamis,  and  fetched 
Leon,  but  I  went  to  my  own  home.  Doubtless  I  should 
have  died  for  this  act,  but  that  the  Thirty  were  overthrown 
soon  afterwards. 

"  '  And  what  I  have  done  publicly  that  I  have  privately 
also.  Never  have  I  conceded  anything  that  was  wrong  to 
any  man.  But  if  any  man  would  hear  what  I  said  I  never 
grudged  him  the  opportunity.  I  have  offered  myself  to 
rich  and  poor,  whether  they  would  question  me  themselv&s 
or  answer  my  questions,  nor  have  I  spoken  for  pay,  nor  been 
silent  because  I  was  not  paid,  nor  have  I  ever  said  aught  to 
any  man  that  I  have  not  said  to  all. 

"  'So  much,  men  of  Athens,  might  suffice  for  my  defence, 
but  if  any  of  you,  remembering  that  other  men  when 
accused  have  brought  their  children  before  you  seeking  to 
rouse  compassion,  are  angry  with  me  because  I  have  not  so 
done,  let  him  listen  to  me.     I,  too,  have  family  ties. 

"  '  From  no  gnarled  oak  I  sprang,  or  flinty  rock,  as  Homer 
has  it,  but  am  bom  of  man.  Three  sons  I  have  ;  two  of 
them  are  children,  one  an  infant.  Should  I  then  bring 
them  before  you,  and  seek  to  move  your  pity  by  the  sight 
of  them?  Not  so.  I  have  seen  many  thus  demeaning 
themselves,  as  if,  forsooth,  you  acquitting  them,  they  would 
escape  death  altogether ;  but  such  behavior  would  ill  befit 
those  who  seek  to  follow  after  virtue  and  honor.    Nor  is 


274  CALL  I  AS. 

such  btihavior  only  unseemly ;  it  is  wrong.  For  we  are 
bound  to  convince  a  judge,  not  to  persuade  him,  and  he  is 
set  in  his  place  not  to  give  justice  as  a  favor,  but  because  it 
is  justice.  Verily,  if  I  should  have  to  persuade  you  to  act 
against  your  oaths  I  should  be  condemning  myself  of  the 
very  charge  that  Meletus  has  brought  against  me,  for  I 
should  act  as  if  I  did  not  believe  that  the  gods  by  whom  ye 
have  sworn  to  do  right  are  gods  at  all.  Far  be  it  from  me 
so  to  act.  I  believe  in  the  gods  more  than  my  accusers  be- 
lieve ;  and  I  leave  it  to  these  gods  and  to  you  to  judge  con- 
cerning me  as  it  may  be  best  for  you  and  for  me.'  " 

"  No  man,"  said  Cebes,  "  could  have  spoken  better ;  but 
it  was  not  the  speech  that  would  please  or  conciliate." 

"  And  what  was  the  result?  "  asked  Callias. 

"  After  all  there  was  only  a  majority  of  six  against  him  ; 
two  hundred  and  eighty-one  against  two  hundred  and 
seventy-five  were  the  numbers.  Then  came  the  question  of 
the  sentence.  The  prosecutor  had  demanded  the  penalty  of 
death.  '  Socrates,'  said  the  president  of  the  court,  '  what 
penalty  do  you  yourself  propose?'*  'You  ask  me,'  said 
Socrates,  '  what  penalty  I  myself  propose.  What  then  do  I 
deserve,  I  who  have  not  sought  to  make  money,  or  to  hold 
office  in  the  state,  or  to  command  soldiers  and  ships,  who 
have  not  even  attended  to  my  own  affairs,  but  have  sought 
to  do  to  others  what  I  thought  to  be  their  highest  good? 
What  should  be  done  to  nie  for  being  such  a  man  ?  Surely 
.something  good,  something  suitable  to  one  who  is  your 
benefactor,  and  who  reqmres  leisure  that  he  may  spend  it  in 
giving  you  good  advice.  There  is  nothing,  I  conceive,  more 
suitable  than  that  I  should  be  maintained  at  the  public  ex- 

*  It  was  the  curious  custom  in  the  Athenian  courts  of  criminal  justice 
that  the  accused,  if  found  guilty,  was  required  to  name  a  counter  penalty 
to  that  proposed  by  the  prosecutor.  The  prosecutor,  as  has  been  seen, 
had  proposed  death.  Socrates,  under  the  circumstances,  could  Iiardly 
have  proptosed  anything  less  than  banisbinent,  if  he  had  any  wish  that 
it  should  be  accepted  by  the  court. 


CA  LLIAS.  2r5 

pense  iu  the  Town  Hall,  with  those  who  have  done  great 
services  to  the  State.  Surely  I  deserve  such  a  reward  far 
more  than  he  who  has  won  a  chariot  race  at  the  Olympic 
games ;  for  he  only  makes  you  think  yourselves  fortunate, 
whereas  I  teach  you  to  be  happy.' 

"  Of  course  there  was  a  loud  murmur  of  disapprobation  at 
this.  Even  some  of  those  who  had  voted  for  acquittal  were 
vexed  at  language  so  bold. 

*'  Socrates  began  again  :  '  You  think  that  I  show  too  much 
pride  when  T  talk  in  this  fashion.  But  it  is  not  so.  Let  me 
show  you  what  I  mean.  As  to  the  penalty  which  the 
accuser  demands,  T  cannot  say  whether  it  be  good  or  evil  ; 
but  the  other  things  which  I  might  projKjse  in  its  stead  I 
know  to  be  evils — imprisonment,  or  a  fine  with  imprison- 
ment till  it  be  paid,  or  exile,  which  last,  indeed,  you  naight 
accept.  But  if  you  cannot  endure  my  ways,  O  men  of 
Athens,  think  you  that  others  would  endure  them  ?  And 
what  a  life  for  a  man  of  my  age  to  lead,  this  wandering 
from  city  to  city  !  Butif  anyoneshouldsay.  Why,  O  Socrates, 
will  you  not  depart  to  some  other  city,  and  there  live 
quietly,  and  hold  your  tongue  ?  I  answer.  To  do  this  would 
be  to  disobey  the  god,  and  I  cannot  do  it.  And  indeed  to 
live  without  talking  and  questioning  about  such  matters  is 
not  to  live  at  all.  But  I  have  not  yet  named  the  penalty. 
If  I  had  money  I  should  propose  some  fine  which  I  could 
pay  ;  but  I  have  noue,  except  indeed  you  are  willing  to  im- 
pose upon  me  some  small  fine,  for  I  think  that  I  could 
raise  a  pound  of  silver.'  At  this  there  was  another  growl 
from  the  judges;  and  some  of  us  who  were  standing  by 
Socrates  caught  him  by  the  robe,  and  whispered  to  him. 
After  a  pause,  he  said,  'Some  of  my  friends,  Crito  and 
Plato  and  ApoUodorus,  advise  me  to  propose  a  fine  of  thirty 
minas     and  offer  to  l)e  security.    So  I  propose  that  sum.' 


276  CALL  J  AS. 

*'  Of  course  the  result  was  certain.  A  majority  much 
larger  thau  before  voted  for  the  death  penalty.  Then  the 
condemned  man  spoke  for  the  last  time.  You  will  be  able 
to  read  for  yourself  the  very  words  that  he  said.  I  can  now 
give  you  only  aqi  idea  of  the  end  of  his  speech.  He  had 
told  the  judges,  speaking  especially  to  those  who  had  voted 
for  his  acquittal,  that  the  voice  that  was  wont  to  warn  him 
had  never  hindered  him  in  the  course  of  his  speech,  though 
it  was  not  the  speech  that  he  should  have  made  if  he  had 
wanted  to  save  his  life.  From  this  he  argued  that  he  and 
they  had  reason  to  believe  that  death  was  a  good  thing. 
'  Either,'  he  said,  '  thedead  are  nothing  and  feel  nothing,  or 
they  remove  hence  to  some  other  place.  What  can  be  better 
than  to  feel  nothing  ?  What  days  or  nights  in  all  our  lives 
are  better  than  those  nights  in  which  we  sleep  soundly 
without  even  a  dream  ?  But  if  the  common  belief  is  true, 
and  we  pass  in  death  to  that  place  wherein  are  all  who  have 
ever  died,  what  greater  good  can  there  be  than  this  ?  If  one 
passes  from  those  who  are  called  judges  here  to  those  who 
really  judge  and  administer  true  'justice,  to  JEacus  and 
Minos  and  Rhadamanthus;  is  this  a  change  to  be  lamented  ? 
What  would  not  anyone  of  you  give  to  join  the  company  of 
Homer  and  Orpheus  and  Hesiod  ?  or  talk  with  those  who 
led  that  great  army  of  Greeks  to  Troy,  or  with  any  of  the  many 
thousands  of  good  men  and  women  that  have  lived  upon  the 
earth?  Verily,  I  would  die  many  times  if  I  could  only 
hope  to  do  this.  And  now  it  is  time ' — for  these  were  his 
very  last  words  of  all — '  that  we  should  separate.  I  go  to 
die,  you  remain  to  live  ;  but  which  of  us  is  going  the  better 
way,only  the  gods  know.'  " 

There  was  a  deep  silence  in  the  room  after  Crito  had 
finished  speaking.  It  was  broken  at  last  by  Callias,  who 
.isked,  "  How  long  since  was  that?  " 


CALLIA8.  277 

"Nearly  two  months,"  said  Simmias,  " but  by  a  strange 
chance  Socrates  was  not  put  to  death  for  nearly  a  month 
after  his  condemnation.  It  so  happened  that  the  Sacred 
Ship  started  for  Delos  just  at  the  time,  and  during  its  voyage 
— in  fact  from  the  moment  that  the  priest  fastens  the 
chaplet  on  the  stern — no  man  can  be  put  to  death.  For 
thirty  days  then  he  was  kept  in  prison.  There  we  were 
permitted  to  visit  him,  and  there  we,  heard  many  things 
that  are  well  worth  being  remembered." 

"  I  want  to  hear  everything,"  cried  Callias. 

"  You  shall  in  good  time,"  said  Crito.  "  Come  to  my 
house  to-morrow  and  I  will  put  you  in  the  way  of  your 
getting  what  you  want." 

"But  you  ought  to  hear,"  cried  ApoUodorus,  who  had 
hitherto  taken  no  part  in  the  conversation,  "  what  the 
teacher  said  to  me,  though,  indeed,  it  shows  no  great  wis- 
dom in  me  that  he  hs^d  occasion  to  say  it.  '  O  Socrates,'  I 
said,  when  I  saw  him  turning  away  from  the  place  where 
he  had  stood  before  his  judges — and  nothing  could  be  more 
cheerful  than  his  look — *  O  Socrates,  this  indeed  is  the  hardest 
thing  to  bear  that  you  should  have  been  condemned  un- 
justly.' *  Nay,  not  so,  my  friend,'  he  answered,  '  would  the 
matter  have  been  more  tolerable  if  I  had  been  condemned 
justly?'  " 

There  was  a  general  laugh.  "That  is  true,"  said  Crito, 
"  but  certainly  as  far  as  Athens  is  concerned,  it  was  a  more 
shameful  thing." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  LAST  CONVERSATION. 

Callias,  as  may  be  supposed,  did  not  fail  to  keep  his  ap- 
pointment with  the  utmost  punctuality.  He  found  at 
Crito's  house  very  nearly  the  same  company  that  had  been 
assembled  the  day  before  at  Xenophon's.  After  the 
usual  greetings  had  been  interchanged,  the  host  said, 
"I  propose,  if  it  is  agreeable  to  you  all,  to  hold  the 
conversation  which  we  are  to  have  to-day  at  the  house 
of  our  friend  Plato.  He  has  written  to  invite  us,  not 
because  he  can  himself  see  us,  for  he  is  not  sufficiently 
recovered  from  his  late  illness,,  but  because  we  shall 
thus  be  able  to  talk  with  his  friend  Phaedo ;  for  as  all 
knoWjthere  is  no  more  fitting  person  than  Phaedo  to  tell 
our  young  friend  Callias  the  things  that  he  desires  to 
hear.  For  though  we  were  all  present,  Xenophon  only  ex- 
cepted, on  that  day  when  the  Master  left  us,  having  given 
us  his  last  instructions,  yet  there  is  no  one  who  so  well  re- 
members and  is  so  well  able  to  describe  all  that  was  then 
said  or  done.  I  propose,  therefore,  that  we  transfer  our- 
selves to  his  house." 

The  proposition  met  with  general  assent  and  the  party 
set  out. 

Crito  naturally  took  charge  of  Callias  as  being  his  special 
guest.  As  the  two  were  walking,  the  young  man  said, 
"Tell  me,  Crito,  if  it  is  not  unpleasing  to  you,   whether 


CALLTAS.  279 

iu  the  thirty  days  during  whicli  the  Master  was  held  in 
prison,  any  efforts  were  made  to  save  his  life?  " 

"I  am  glad,"  said  Crito,  "that  you  have  asked  me  that 
question  privately  and  not  before  others,  for,  indeed,  this  is 
a  matter  which  has  caused  me  no  little  amount  of  trouble 
and  shame.  Some  people  blame  me  because,  they  say, 
though  a  rich  man  I  did  not  bribe  the  jailer  of  the  prison  m 
which  Socrates  was  confined,  and  thus  enable  him  to  escape. 
I  am  blamable,  indeed,  but  for  an  exactly  opposite  reason. 
I  did  bribe  the  man — this  of  course  is  in  absolute  confidence 
between  you  and  me — and  in  this,  as  the  Master  showed  me, 
I  was  wrong.  Indeed  I  never  received  from  him  so  severe 
a  rebuke  as  I  did  concerning  this  matter.  But  let  me  tell 
you  what  happened.  I  had  arranged  everything.  The 
.jailer  was  to  let  him  escape.  There  were  people  ready  to 
earrj'  him  out  of  the  country.  I  went  to  him  early  in  the 
morning  of  the  day  when  the  ship  was  expected  to  return. 
I  told  him  what  I  had  done.  I  made  light  of  the  money 
that  the  afTair  was  to  cost.  I  could  well  afford  it,  I  said, 
and  if  I  could  not  there  were  others  ready  to  contribute. 
And  then  I  attacked  him,  it  was  an  impudent  thing  to  do, 
but  I  felt  as  if  I  could  do  anything  that  we  should  not  lose 
him.  I  told  him  that  it  was  wrong  of  him  to  do  his  best  to 
let  his  enemies  get  their  way.  I  said  to  him,  'Thus  acting 
you  desert  your  children,  whom  you  might  bring  up  and 
educate.  But  if  you  die  you  will  leave  them  orphans  and 
friendless.  Either  you  ought  not  to  have  children  or  you 
ought  to  talte  some  trouble  about  them.  Surely  this  does 
not  become  one  who  has  made  virtue  his  study  throughout 
his  life.  And  remember  what  a  disgrace  will  fall  upon  us, 
for  it  will  certainly  be  said  tliat  we  did  not  do  our  best  to  save 
your  life,' 

"Well,  I  cannot  tell  you  now  a  tentli  jmrt  of  what  he  said. 


280  CA  LLIAS. 

I  liave  it  all  written  down  at  home,  but  I  may  say  what  you 
will  easily  believe  that  I  was  as  helpless  in  his  hands  as  the 
veriest  pretender  whom  he  has  ever  cross-examined.  I 
know  that  he  ended  by  making  me  thoroughly  ashamed  of 
myself.    One  of  Jiis  chief  arguments  was  this : 

"  'Suppose,  Crito,  that  as  I  was  in  the  act  of  escaping,  the 
state  itself  were  to  say  to  me :  Are  you  not  seeking  to 
destroy  by  so  acting  the  laws  of  the  state  itself?  Is  not 
that  state  already  dissolved  wherein  public  sentences  are  set 
aside  by  private  persons?  What  should  I  answer  to  such 
questions  ?  And  if  the  laws  were  to  say,  What  complaint 
have  you  got  to  make  against  us  that  you  seek  to  destroy  us? 
Do  you  not  owe  your  being  to  us,  seeing  that  your  father 
and  mother  married  according  to  our  ordering?  Have  we 
not  given  you  nurture,  education,  all  the  good  things  that 
you  possess  as  being  an  Athenian  ?  Have  you  not  acknowl- 
edged us  by  living  in  the  city,  by  having  children  in  it? 
And  if  they  were  further  to  say,  Verily,  he  who  acts  in  this 
way  in  which  you  are  about  to  act  is  a  corrupter  of  youth — 
what  could  I  answer  ? 

"  *  And  tell  me,  Crito,'  he  went  on, '  whither  would  you 
have  me  betake  myself?  Not  surely  to  any  well-ordered  city 
seeing  that  I  had  shown  myself  the  enemy  of  such  order, 
but  rather  to  some  abode  of  riot,  which  would  indeed  ill  be- 
come one  who  had  professed  to  be  a  lover  of  virtue  and 
righteousness.  And  as  for  my  children,  how  shall  I  benefit 
them?  By  taking  them  elsewhere  and  bringing  them  up 
not  as  citizens  of  Athens,  but  as  citizens  of  some  other  state 
which  I  myself  here  have  judged  inferior,  seeing  that  all  my 
life  long  I  have  deliberately  preferred  Athens  to  it  ? '  Verily, 
CalUas,  when  he  said  this,  I  had  no  answer.  But  here  we 
are  at  Phaedo's  house." 

Callias  was  not  a  little  surprised  when  he  was  introduced 


CALLTAS.  281 

to  the  man  whom  he  had  been  brought  to  see.  Phaedo  was 
a  man  much  younger  than  himself ;  indeed  he  had  scarcely 
completed  his  eighteenth  year.  His  appearance  was  singu- 
larly attractive,  and  his  manners  had  all  the  grace  and  ease 
of  a  well-born  and  well-bred  man.  That  he  was  not  an 
Athenian  was  evident  from  his  speech,  which  was  some- 
what tinged  with  a  Doric  accent.  Altogether  Callias  was  at 
a  loss  to  think  who  or  what  he  could  be,  and  how  he  came 
to  be  regarded  as  the  best  interpreter  of  the  Master's  last 
words.  An  opportunity,  however,  arrived  for  enlightening 
him.  After  a  few  minutes'  conversation ,  a  slave  appeared  with 
a  message  for  the  master  of  the  house.  Plato  who  had  been 
compelled  to  absent  himself  from  the  last  interview  with 
Socrates,  as  has  been  said,  was  still  so  unwell  that  his 
physician  forbade  the  excitement  of  seeing  visitors.  He 
now  sent  for  Phaedo  to  entrust  him  with  a  message  of 
apology  for  his  fellow  disciples  whom  he  was  unable  to 
entertain,  and  partly  to  set  him  free  to  act  the  part  of  host 
in  his  stead. 

Crito  seized  the  opportunity  of  his  temporary  absence 
from  the  room  to  give  some  particulars  about  him.  "He 
comes  of  a  very  good  family  in  Elis,  and  was  taken  prisoner 
about  this  time  last  year  when  Athens  and  Sparta  were 
allies  and  acting  against  that  country.  He  was  sold  in  the 
slave  market  here,  and  I  cannot  tell  the  cruelties  that  he 
endured  from  the  wretch  who  bought  him.  Somehow  he 
heard  of  Socrates,  ran  away  from  his  owner  and  begged  for  the 
Master's  protection.  Of  course,  the  only  thing  was  to  buy 
him,  and  equally  of  course,  Socrates  was  wholly  unable  to 
do  this.  But  the  MaAter,  if  he  had  no  wealth  of  his  own, 
happily  had  wealthy  friends.  He  went  to  Plato  and,  by 
great  good  luck,  Plato  had  a  very  powerful  hold  over  the 
poor  fellow's  owner ;  the  man  owed  him  a  large  sum  of 


282  CAJ.LJAiS. 

money,  the  iiiteivst  of  which  was  overdue.  He  was  pur- 
chased, and  at  once  set  free.  Plato  found  that  he  had  been 
remarkablj'^  well  educated  and  that  he  showed  an  extraor- 
dinary aptitude  for  philosophy.  The  lad's  devotion  to 
Socrates  was  unbounded.  He  never  lost  a  chance  of  being 
near  him  ;  he  was  present  of  course  at  the  last  day,  and  he 
watched  and  listened  with  an  intense  earnestness  that 
seemed  to  engrave  everything  on  his  mind  as  one  engraves 
letters  upon  marble  or  bronze.  But,  see,  he  is  coming 
back.  Now  you  will  understand  why  I  have  brought  you 
to  see  him." 

The  young  man,  at  this  moment,  returned  to  the  room. 

"Tell  me,  Phaedo,"  said  Crito,  "what  you  saw  and 
heard  on  the  last  day  of  the  Master's  life.  My  friend 
Callias  here,  who  has  just  come  back  from  campaigning 
against  the  Great  King,  desires  to  hear  it  from  you,  and, 
indeed,  though  we  all  were  present  on  that  day,  you  seem 
to  remember  it  more  accurately  than  any." 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  the  youth  modestly.  "  I  do  not 
know,"  he  went  on,  addressing  himself  especially  to  Callias, 
"  whether  you  will  wholly  understand  me  when  I  say  that 
I  did  not  feel  compassion  as  one  might  feel  for  one  who  was 
dying — he  was  so  calm  and  so  happy.  Neither,  on  the  other 
hand,  did  I  feel  the  pleasure  that  commonly  followed  from 
his  discourses,  for  I  knew  that  he  would  soon  cease  to  be." 

"  It  was  just  so  with  all  of  us,"  said  Crito,  "but  go  on." 

"  We  had  been  to  visit  Socrates  daily  through  the  time  of 
his  imprisonment,  assembling  very  early  in  the  morning, 
and  waiting  till  the  doors  of  the  prison  were  opened,  and  so 
we  did  on  this  day,  only  earlier  than  usual,  because  we 
knew  that  the  Sacred  Ship  had  arrived  the  evening  before. 
The  jailer  came  out.  '  You  must  wait,  gentlemen,'  he  said, 
*  the  Eleven  are  with  him.    They  are  taking  off  his  chains, 


CALLIAfi.  283 

and  are  telling  him  that  he  must  die  to-day.'  After  a  little 
while  the  man  came  out  again,  and  said  that  we  might  go 
in.  When  we  went  in,  we  found  Socrates  sitting  on  the 
side  of  his  bed,  and  his  wife,  Xanthippe,  near  him,  holding 
one  of  his  children  in  her  arms!  As  soon  as  she  saw  us,  she 
began  to  lament  and  say,  *  O  Socrates,  here  are  your  friends 
come  to  see  you  for  the  last  time.'  Then  Socrates,  looking 
at  her,  said  to  Crito,  '  Let  some  one  take  her  home.'  So  one 
of  Crito's  servants  led  her  away.  After  a  while,  for  of 
course  I  must  leave  out  many  things,  the  Master  said,  "  I 
have  a  message  for  Evenus,  who  seeks  to  know,  I  am  told, 
why  I  have  taken  to  writing  verses  in  prison.  Tell  him 
tliat  a  god  appeared  to  me  in  a  dream  and  told  me  to  culti- 
vate the  muses.  Tell  him  also  that  if  he  is  wise  he  will 
follow  me  as  speedily  as  possible,  for  it  seems  that  the 
Athenians  comnaand  that  I  depart  to-day.' 

"  '  But,  Socrates,'  said  Simmias,  '  this  is  a  strange  piece  of 
advice,  and  one  which  Evenus  is  not  likely  to  take.' 

"'Why  so,'  said  Socrates,  'is  he  not  a  philosopher? 
Surely  he  should  be  ready  to  go  the  road  which  I  am  going. 
Only  he  must  not  kill  himself. '  *  Why  do  you  say  this  ? ' 
said  Cebes. 

"  You  will  correct  me,"  said  Phaedo,  turning  to  the  com- 
pany, "  if  I  misrepresent  anything  that  you  said." 

"Speak  on  without  fear,"  said  Simmias,  "you  seem  to 
have  the  memory  of  all  the  muses." 

Phaedo  resumed,  "Socrates  said,  'You  ask  me  why  a 
man  may  not  kill  himself?  Well,  there  is  first  this  reason, 
that  we  are  as  sentinels  set  at  a  post,  which  we  must  not 
leave  until  we  are  bidden  ;  then  again  if  men  be  servants  of 
the  gods,  as  seems  likely,  how  can  they  withdraw  from  this 
service  without  leave?  Would  you  not  be  angry  if  one 
of  your  servants  were  to  do  it  ? ' 


284  CALLIAS. 

"  '  True,'  said  Cebes,  'but  if  we  are  tlie  servants  of  the 
gods,  and  therefore  in  the  best  guardianship,  should  we  not 
be  sorry  to  quit  it?  If  so,  is  it  not  for  the  foolish  to  desire 
death  and  for  the  wise  to  regret  it?'  'You  are  right,'  re- 
plied the  Master,  -'  and  if  V  did  not  expect  when  I  depart 
hence  to  go  to  the  reahns  of  the  wise  and  good  gods  and  to 
the  company  of  righteous  men,  I  should  indeed  grieve  at 
death.  And  that  I  am  right  in  so  expecting  let  me  now 
seek  to  prove  to  you,  for  what  better  could  I  do  on  the 
last  day  of  my  life  ?  But  stay  ;  Crito  wishes  to  say  some- 
thing. What  is  it?'  Crito  said,  'He  who  has  to  give  the 
poison  says  that  you  must  talk  as  little  as  j)Ossible,  for  that 
if  a  man  so  excites  himself  he  has  to  drink  sometimes  two 
potions  or  even  three.'  *  Let  him  take  his  course,'  said  the 
Master,  *  and  prepare  what  he  thinks  needful.  And  now  to 
the  matter  in  hand.  Death,  then,  is  nothing  but  a  separa- 
tion of  the  soul  from  the  body.  That  you  concede.  And 
you  concede  further  that  a  philosopher  should  care  little  for 
the  things  of  the  body,  and  that  when  he  is  most  free  from 
the  body,  then  he  sees  most  clearly  the  highest  and  best 
things,  perceiving,  for  instance,  right  and  justice  and  honor 
and  goodness,  veritable  things  all  of  them,  but  such  as  can- 
not be  discerned  with  the  eyes  or  handled  with  the  hands. 
For  the  body  with  its  desires  and  wants  hinders  us,  and 
makes  us  waste  our  time  on  the  things  that  it  covets,  so  that 
we  have  neither  time  nor  temper  for  wisdom.  If  then  we 
are  ever  to  reach  absolute  Truth  we  must  get  rid  of  the 
hindrance.  While  we  live  we  do  this  to  the  best  of  our  abil- 
ity, and  he  is  the  wisest  man  and  best  philosopher  who  does 
it  most  completely  ;  but  wholly  we  cannot  do  it,  till  the 
god  shall  liberate  us  from  the  control  of  this  companion. 
And  this  is  done  by  Death,  which  is  the  complete  separa- 
tion of  soul  and  body.    Shall  then  the  philosopher,  who  has 


CALLIAS.  286 

all  Ills  life  been  striving  for  such  partial  separation  as  may- 
be possible,  complain  when  the  gods  send  him  this  separa- 
tion that  is  complete  ?  And  this  is  my  defence,  my  friends, 
for  holding  it  to  be  a  good  thing  to  die.'  'Yes,'  replied 
Cebes,  'but  many  fear  that  when  the  soul  is  thus  parted 
from  the  body,  it  may  be  nowhere,  being  dissipated  like  a 
breath  or  a  puff  of  smoke  when  the  body  with  which  it  has 
been  united  dies.'  'You  desire,  then,'  said  Socrates,  *that 
I  should  prove  to  you  that  the  soul  does  not  i)erish  when  it 
is  thus  separated  from  the  body?'  'Yes,'  we  said,  'that 
is  what  we  all  wish.'  'First  then,'  he  went  on,  'is  it  not 
true  that  everything  implies  that  which  is  opposite  to  it,  as 
Right  impUes  Wrong,  and  Fair  implies  Foul,  and  to  sleep  is 
the  opposite  of  to  wake'}  If  so  does  not  to  die  imply  its 
opposite  to  live  again'} 

"'Secondly,  is  it  not  true  that  the  highest  part  of  our 
knowledge  is  a  remembering  again?  For  there  are  things 
which  we  know  not  through  our  senses.  How  then  do  we 
know  them  ?  Surely  because  we  had  this  knowledge  of 
them  at  some  previous  time.' 

"  '  But,'  said  Cebes,  '  may  it  not  be  true  that  the  soul  has 
been  made  beforehand  to  enter  the  body ;  and  having 
entered  it  lives  therein,  and  yet  perishes  when  its  dwelling 
is  dissolved  ? ' 

"  'Being  of  a  frail  nature,  I  suppose,'  said  the  Master, 
'  it's  all  to  be  blown  away  by  the  wind,  so  that  a  man 
should  be  especially  afraid  to  die  on  a  stormy  day.' 

"  At  this  we  all  laughed,  for  we  did  laugh  raany  times 
and  heartily  that  day,  though  now  this  may  seem  to  others 
and  indeed  to  ourselves  almost  incredible,  seeing  what  we 
were  about  to  lose. 

"  'Well,'  the  Master  went  on,  '  I  will  seek  to  reUeve  you 
of  this  fear.    Is  it  not  true  that  things  that  are  made  up  of 


liSG  CALLIA6'. 

parts  are  liable  to  be  separated  ?  And  is  it  not  also  true  that 
the  soul  is  not  made  up  of  parts,  but  is  simple  and  not  com- 
pounded? Also  it  is  visible  things  that  perish;  but  the 
soul  is  not  visible.  Again  the  soul  is  the  ruler,  and  the 
body  the  servant.  Is  it  not  true  that  the  divine  and  im- 
mortal rule  the  human  and  mortal  senses  ? ' 

"  To  this  we  all  agreed. 

"The  Master  began  again,  for  he  now,  as  I  may  say,  had 
to  put  before  us  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter.  '  We 
may  think  thus,  then,  may  we  not?  If  the  soul  depart 
from  the  body  in  a  state  of  purity,  not  taking  with  it  any  of 
the  uncleannesses  of  the  body,  from  which  indeed  it  has 
kept  itself  free  during  life  as  far  as  was  possible — for  this  i^■ 
true  philosophy — then  it  departs  into  that  invisible  region 
which  is  of  its  own  nature,  and  being  freed  from  all  fears 
and  desires  and  other  evils  of  mortality,  spends  the  rest  of 
its  existence  with  the  gods  and  the  spirits  of  the  good  that 
are  like  unto  itself.  But  if  it  depart,  polluted  and  impure, 
having  served  the  body,  and  suffered  itself  to  be  bewitched 
by  its  pleasures  and  desires,  then  it  cannot  attain  to  this 
pure  and  heavenly  region,  but  must  abide  in  some  place 
that  is  more  fitted  for  it. ' 

"  Much  else  he  said  on  this  point  to  which  we  listened  an 
though  it  were  another  Orpheus  that  was  singing  to  us. 
And  when  he  had  ended  and  sat  wrapt  in  thovight,  we  were 
silent,  fearing  to  disturb  him.  And  so  we  remained  for  no 
little  space  of  time  in  silence,  he  sitting  on  the  bed,  as  if  he 
neither  saw  nor  heeded  any  of  the  things  that  were  about 
him'and  we  regarding  him  most  earnestly. 

"  After  a  while  he  woke  up,  as  it  were,  from  his  reverie  and 
said,  '  You  have  agreed  with  me  so  far  ;  yet  it  m.ay  be  that 
you  have  fears  and  doubts  in  your  minds  which  I  have 
not  yet  dispersed.     If  so  let  me  hear  them,  that  I  may,  if  it 


CALLIAS.  287 

be  possible,  rid  you  of  them,  for  indeed  I  cannot,  as  I  conceive, 
leave  behind  me  a  greater  gift  for  you  than  such  a  riddance. 
Speak,  then,  if  there  is  anything  that  you  would  say.' 

"  Simmias  said — I  put,  you  will  perceive,  his  argument  in 
a  few  words  :  '  May  it  not  be  that  the  soul  is  in  the  body  an 
a  harmony  is  in  a  harp  ?  For  the  harmony  is  invisible  and 
beautiful  and  divine,  and  the  harp  is  visible  and  material 
and  mortal.  Yet  when  the  harp  perishes,  tlien  the  har- 
mony also,  of  necessity,  ceases  to  be.' 

"  When  Simmias  had  ended,  Cebes  began  :  '  I  do  indeed 
believe  that  the  soul  is  more  durable  than  the  body.  Just 
so  the  weaver  is  more  durable  than  the  thing  which  he 
weaves.  Yet  at  the  last,  one  thing  that  he  weaves  proves  to 
be  more  durable  than  he.  So  may  the  soul  outlast  many 
bodies,  and  yet  perish  finally,  worn  out,  so  to  speak,  by 
having  gone  through  so  many  births.' 

"  Have  I  put  these  things  rightly,  O  Simmias  and  Cebes?  " 
said  the  young  philosopher,  addressing  them,  "  though 
indeed  I  have  made  them  very  brief." 

"You  have  put  them  rightly,"  the  two  agreed. 

"When  we  heard  these  things,"  Phaedo  went  on,  "we 
were  also  greatly  disturbed  ;  for  we  desired  to  believe  that 
which  the  Master  was  seeking  to  prove,  and  seemed  to  have 
attained  certainly,  and  now  we  were  thrown  back  again 
into  confusion  and  doubt." 

"And  how  did  the  Master  take  it,  O  Phaedo?"  said 
Callias  ;  "for  indeed  I  feel  much  as  you  describe  yourselves 
jis  having  felt.  Having  reached  a  certain  hope,  not  to  say 
conviction,  I  am  now  disturbed  by  fears." 

"Nothing  could  be  more  admirable  than  his  behavior. 
That  he  should  be  able  to  answer,  was  to  be  expected  ;  but 
that  he  should  receive  these  objections  so  sweetly,  so  gently, 
and  perceiving  our  dismay,  quickly  encourage  us,  and,  so  to 


288  CALL!  AN. 

speak,  reform  our  broken  ranks — this  indeed  was  beyond  all 
praise. 

"  I  myself  was  sitting  on  a  low  seat  bj'  the  side  of  his  bed. 
He  dropped  his  hand,  and  stroked  my  head  and  the  hair 
which  lay  upon  my  neck,  I  wore  it  long  in  those  days,*  for 
he  was  often  wont  to  play  with  my  hair.  Then  he  said,  '  I 
suppose,  Phaedo,  that  you  intend  to  cut  off  these  beautiful 
locks  to-morrow,  as  mourners  are  wont  to  do.' 

"'I  suppose  so,'  I  said. 

"  '  But  you  must  cut  them  ofl  to-day  and  not  to-morrow  if 
our  doctrine  be  stricken  to  death,  and  we  cannot  bring  it  to 
life  again.*  Then  he  turned  to  Simmias  and  Cebes,  and 
said,  '  Hear  now  what  I  have  to  say,  but  while  you  hear, 
think  much  of  the  truth  but  little  of  Socrates ;  and  be  on 
your  guard  lest  in  my  eagerness  I  deceive  not  myself  only 
but  you  also,  and  leave  my  sting  behind  me  when  I  die 
even  as  does  a  bee.  You,  Simmias,  think  that  the  soul  may 
l)e  but  as  a  harmony  in  the  body.  But  do  you  not  remember 
what  we  said  about  all  knowledge  being  a  remembering,  and 
that  what  the  soul  knows  it  has  before  learnt  ?  It  existed 
then  before  the  body ;  but  a  harmony  cannot  exist  before 
the  things  are  put  together  of  which  it  proceeds.  Then 
again  harmony  may  be  more  or  less ;  but  one  soul  cannot  be 
more  a  soul  than  another.  And  if,  as  the  wise  men  say, 
virtue  is  harmony  and  vice  discord,  we  have  a  harmony  of 
a  discord,  which  cannot  be ;  finally  one  part  of  the  soul 
often  opposes  another,  as  reason  opposes  appetite  ;  how  then 
is  the  soul  a  harmony?  You,  Cebes,  hold,  indeed,  that  the 
soul  is  durable,  but  may  not  be  immortal.  Hear  then  my 
answer.  You  believe  that  there  are  ideas  or  principles  of 
things,  and  that  these  ideas,  being  invisible,  are  the  real 

*  A  yoang  Oreek  wore  his  hair  long  till  he  reached  the  age  of  eighteen. 
This  little  detail  is  a  proof  of  Phaedo's  extreme  youth  at  this  time. 


CA  LLIAS,  289 

causes  of  things  that  are  visible.'  Cebes  acknowledged  that 
he  did  so  believe.  *  Is  not  now  the  soul  the  principle  of  life, 
and  is  not  this  principle  the  opposite  of  death?  In  its 
essence,  therefore,  it  is  immortal ;  but  that  which  is  im- 
mortal cannot  be  destroyed,  no,  even  though  there  are  things 
which  seem  to  threaten  its  existence.' 

" '  To  affirm  positively  about  such  matters,'  he  said,  '  is  not 
the  part  of  u  wise  man.  Yet  what  I  have  said  seems  reason- 
able. And  anyliow  he  who  has  scorned  the  body  and  its 
pleasures  during  life,  and  has  adorned  the  soul  with  her 
proper  virtues,  justice  and  courage  and  truth,  may  surely 
await  his  passage  to  the  other  world  witli  a  good  hope.  But 
now  destiny  calls  me,  and  I  must  obey.  But  I  will  bathe  be- 
fore I  take  the  poison,  that  the  women  may  not  have  the 
trouble  of  washing  my  body. '  • 

"Then  Crito  asked  :  '  Have  you  any  directions  to  give  us?  ' 
"  '  Nothing  now  ;  if  you  rightly  order  your  own  liveSt  you 
will  do  the  best  for  me  and  my  children  ;  but  if  you  do  not, 
then  whatever  you  may  promise,  you  will  fail.' 
"  '  But,'  Crito  asked,  *  how  shall  we  bury  you  ? ' 
"  '  As  you  will,'  said  he,  '  provided  only  you  can  catch  me 
and  that  I  do  not  slip  out  of  your  hands.'    Then  he  smiled, 
and  said,  '  Crito  here  will  not  be  persuaded  that  I  am  saying 
the  truth.    He  thinks  that  /am  the  dead  body  that  he  will 
soon  see  here,  and  asks  how  he  shall  bury  me.    Assure  him 
then  that  when  this  dead  body  is  laid  in  the  grave  or  put 
upon  the  pyre  to  be  burnt  it  is  not  Socrates  that  he  sees.  For. 
to  speak  in  this  way,   O  Crito,   is  not  only  absurd  but 
harmful.' 

"After  this  he  bathed,  remaining  in  the  bath-chamber 
for  some  time.  This  being  ended,  his  children  were  brought 
to  him,  and  the  women  of  hia  family  also.  With  these  he 
talked  awhile  in  the  presence  of  Crito,  and  afterwards  com- 


290  CALJLIA& 

mauded  that  some  one  should  take  the  women  and  children 
away.  And  it  was  now  near  sunset.  Hereupon  the  servant  of 
the  Eleven  came  in,  and  said,  '  O  Socrates,  you  will  not  be 
angry  with  me  and  curse  me  when  I  tell  you,  as  the 
magistrates  constrained  me  to  do,  that  you  must  drink  the 
poison.  I  have  always  found  you  most  gentle  and  generous, 
the  best  by  farof  all  that  have  come  into  this  place.  You 
will  be  angry,  not  with  me,  for  you  know  that  I  am  blame- 
less, but  with  those  whom  you  know  to  be  in  fault.  And 
now,  for  you  know  what  I  am  come  to  tell  you,  bear  what 
must  be  borne  as  cheerfully  as  may  be.'  And  saying  this 
the  man  turned  away  his  face  and  wept. 

"  '  Farewell ! '  said  Socrates,  '  I  will  do  as  you  bid,'  and 
looking  to  us  he  said,  '  How  courteous  he  is  !  All  the  time 
he  has  been  so,  sometimes  talking  to  me,  and  showing  him- 
self the  best  of  fellows.  And  now  see  how  generously  he 
weeps  for  me  !  But  we  must  do  what  he  says.  Let  some 
one  bring  the  poison,  if  it  has  been  pounded  ;  if  not,  let  the 
man  pound  it.' 

"'But,'  said  Crito,  'the  sun  is  still  upon  the  moun- 
tains. I  have  known  some  who  would  prolong  the  day 
eating  and  drinking  till  it  was  quite  late  before  they  drank. 
Anyhow  do  not  be  in  a  hurry.  There  is  still  plenty  of 
time.' 

"  '  Ah  ! '  said  Socrates,  '  these  men  were  quite  consistent. 
They  thought  that  they  were  gaining  so  much  time.  But  I 
too  must  be  consistent.  I  believe  that  I  shall  gain  nothing 
by  dying  an  hour  or  two  later,  except  indeed  the  making  of 
myself  a  laughing  stock  by  clinging  to  life  when  there  is 
really  nothing  left  of  it  to  cling  to.' 

"  Then  Crito  naade  a  sign  to  the  slave  that  was  standing 
by ;  he  went  out,  and  after  some  time  had  passed  brought 
in  the  man  whose  duty  it  was  to  give  the  poison,  and  who 


CALLIAS.  291 

brought  it  in  ready  mixed  in  a  cup.  When  Socrates  caught 
sight  of  him,  he  said  : 

'"Well,  my  friend,  you  know  all  about  these  matters. 
What  must  I  do?' 

"  '  You  will  only  have  to  walkabout  after  you  have  drunk 
the  poison,  till  you  feel  a  sort  of  weight  in  your  legs.  Then 
you  should  lie  down,  and  the  poison  will  do  the  rest' 

"So saying,  he  reached  the  cup  to  the  Master,  who  took 
it.  His  hand  did  not  shake  ;  there  was  not  the  least  change 
in  his  color  or  his  look.  Only  he  put  his  head  forward  in 
the  way  he  had,  and  said  to  the  man  : 

"'How  about  making  a  libation  from  the  cup?  May  we 
do  it?' 

"  '  Socrates,'  said  the  man,  '  we  pound  just  so  much  as  we 
think  sufficient.' 

"  '  I  understand,'  said  the  Master.  *  Still  we  may,  nay  we 
must,  pray  to  the  gods  that  my  removal  hence  to  that  place 
may  be  fortunate.  The  gods  grant  this  !  Amen  ! '  And  as 
he  said  this  he  put  the  cup  to  his  lips  and  drank  it  off  in  the 
easiest,  quietest  way  possible. 

"  Up  to  that  time  we  had  all  been  fairly  well  able  to  keep 
from  tears.  But  when  we  saw  him  drinking  the  poison, 
when  we  knew  that  he  had  finished  it,  we  could  restrain 
them  no  longer.  As  for  myself  I  covered  my  face  with  my 
mantle,  and  wept  to  myself.  Not  for  him  did  I  weep,  but 
for  myself,  thinking  what  a  friend  I  had  lost.  And  others 
were  still  more  overcome  than  I  was.  Only  Socrates  was 
quite  unmoved. 

♦'  *  Why  all  this,'  he  said,  '  ray  dear  friends?  I  sent  the 
women  away  for  this  very  reason,  that  they  might  not  vex 
us  in  this  fashion.  I  have  heard  it  said  that  a  man  ought 
to  die  with  good  words  in  his  ears.  Be  quiet,  I  beseech,  and 
bear  yourselves  like  men.' 


292  CALLlAiS. 

"  When  we  heard  this  we  were  not  a  little  ashamed  of 
ourselves,  and  kept  back  our  tears.  He  walked  about  till 
he  felt  the  weight  in  his  legs,  and  then  lay  down  on  his 
back — this  was  what  the  man  bade  him  do.  Then  the  man 
who  administered  the  poison  squeezed  his  foot  prettj' 
strongly,  and  asked  him  whether  he  felt  anything.  He 
said  no.  Then  the  man  showed  us  how  the  numbness  was 
going  higher  and  higher. 

"  '  When  it  reaches  his  heart,'  he  said,  '  he  will  die.' 

"When  the  groin  was  cold  the  Master  uncovered  his 
face — for  te  had  covered  it  before — and  said,  *  Crito,  we  owe 
a  cock  to  -iEsculapius ;  pay  it,  do  not  forget.' 

"  These  were  the  last  words  he  said. 

"  *  I  will,'  said  Crito,  '  is  there  anything  more?  ' 

"But  he  made  no  answer.  A  little  time  after,  we  saw 
him  move.  Then  the  man  uncovered  the  face,  and  we  saw 
that  his  eyes  were  set.  Then  Crito  closed  his  mouth  and 
his  eyes." 

Phaedo  left  the  room  hastily  when  he  had  finished  his 
narrative.  For  some  time  there  was  silence.  'Then  Apollo- 
dorus  spoke. 

"You  know,  my  friends,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  not  verj* 
wise  nor  at  all  learned  ;  but  he  bore  with  me  and  my  foolish- 
ness, and  you  will  also  because  you  know  I  loved  him.  Let 
me  say  then  one  thing.  Much  that  Socrates  said  that  day 
I  did  not  understand,  nor  do  I  understand  it  now  when  I 
hear  it  again.  Yet  no  one  could  be  more  fully  persuaded 
than  I  was  that  he  spoke  the  truth.  And  what  persuaded 
me  was  the  sight  of  the  man.  So  brave  was  he,  so  cheerful, 
so  wholly  convinced  in  his  own  mind,  that  no  one  could 
doubt  that  he  was  indeed  about  to  depart  to  a  better  place." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  CONDITION  OF    EXILK. 

The  story  that  Callias  had  heard  of  the  last  days  of  his 
Master,  and  heard,  of  course,  with  many  details  which  it  is 
now  impossible  to  reproduce,  made,  it  need  hardly  be  said, 
a  profound  impression  on  him.  First  and  foremost — and 
this  was  what  the  dead  man  himself  would  have  been  most 
rejoiced  to  see — was  the  profound  conviction  that  this 
teaching,  inspired,  as  it  was,  with  a  faith  which  the  imme- 
diate prospect  of  death  had  not  been  able  to  shake,  was  ab- 
solutely true.  The  young  man  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
had  any  feeling  of  religion  in  the  sense  in  which  we  under- 
stand that  word.  To  believe  in  the  fables,  grotesque  or  even 
immoral,  which  made  up  the  popular  theology,  in  gods  who 
were  only  exaggerated  men,  stronger,  indeed,  but  more 
cruel,  treacherous,  and  lustful,  was  an  impossibility.  The 
poets'  tales  of  the  Elysian  plain  and  of  tlie  abyss  of  Tartarus 
had  in  no  wise  helped  towards  producing  any  emotions  of 
the  spiritual  kind,  any  wish  to  dwell  in  an  invisible  world. 
The  most  sacred  of  these  poets  in  his  description  of  that 
world  as  another  earth  in  which  everything  was  feebler,  paler, 
less  satisfying  than  it  is  here,  had  certainly  repelled  rather 
than  attracted  him.  Now  this  want  had  been  supplied ;  the 
lofty  teaching  of  duty,  duty  owed  to  country,  kinsfolk, 
friends,  fellow-citizens,  fellow-men,  that  he  had  heard  from 
the  Master  was  now  supplemented  and  sanctioned  by  this 


294  CALL  I  AS. 

clear  enunciation  of  a  doctrine  of  immortality.  The  young 
man  felt  that  he  could  face  the  world,  whether  it  brought 
him  prosperity  or  adversity,  joy  or  sorrow,  life  or  death, 
with  a  more  equable  soul  or  more  assured  spirit  than  he  had 
ever  dreamed  could  be  possible. 

The  two  or  three  days  that  followed  the  co"nversation  re- 
lated in  my  last  chapter  were  spent  by  the  young  Athenian 
in  debating  with  himself  the  question  :  What  am  I  to  do? 

He  had  just  risen  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth 
day,  when  a  visitor  was  announced.  It  was  Xenophon, 
looking,  as  Callias  thought,  serious,    but  not    depressed. 

"And  what  have  you  been  doing  these  three  days?" 
cried  the  newcomer. 

"Thinking,"  replied  CaUias. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  have  been  doing  myself,  and  I 
would  wager  my  chance  of  being  Archon  next  year,  a  very 
serious  stake  indeed,  that  we  have  had  the  same  subject  for 
our  thoughts.  You  have  been  debating  with  yourself  what 
you  are  to  do?" 

"  Exactly  so ;  and  I  am  no  nearer  a  conclusion  than  I  was 
when  I  began." 

"  Well,  some  one  else  has  been  good  enough  to  save  us  the 
trouble  of  deciding.  Listen  to  this.  I  have  a  friend  in  office, 
I  should  tell  you,  and  he  has  given  me  an  early  copy  of 
what  will  be  soon  known  all  over  Athens.  '  It  is  proposed 
by  Erasinides,  son  of  Lysias,  of  the  township  of  Colonus, 
that  Xenophon,  son  of  Gryllus,  of  the  township  of  Orchia, 
and  Callias,  son  ofHipponicus,  of  the  township  of  Eleusis,' 
and  some  twenty  others,  whose  names  I  need  not  trouble 
you  with,  '  be  banished  from  Athens  for  unpatriotic  con- 
duct, especially  in  aiding  and  abetting  the  designs  of  Cyrus, 
who  was  a  notorious  enemy  of  the  Athenian  people.' 
Well ;  that  is  going  to  be  proposed  to  the  Senate  to-day. 


CALL! AS.  295 

My  friend,  who  knows  all  about  the  strings,  and  how  they 
are  pulled,  tells  me  that  it  is  certain  to  be  carried.  In  the 
course  of  a  few  days  it  will  be  brought  before  the  Assembly, 
and  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  it  will  be  accepted." 

"  But  what  have  the  Athenian  people  got  to  do  with  Cyrus, 
who  is  dead  and  gone,  and  can  neither  help  nor  hurt?  " 

"  Ah  !  you  don't  understand.  The  Lacedaemonians,  you 
know,  have  declared  war  against  the  Persian  King.  Of 
course  that  gives  the  Athenians  a  chance  of  becoming  his 
friends.  It  is  true  that  things  are  not  ripe  just  yet  for  any- 
thing decisive  or  public.  We  are  allies  with  the  Lacedae- 
monians, and  can't  venture  to  quarrel  with  them.  But 
this  is  a  matter  at  which  they  cannot  take  offence,  but 
which  will  most  certainly  please  the  Great  King.  He  has 
not  forgotten  the  Cyrus  business,  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
and  it  will  delight  him  to  hear  of  any  who  had  a  part  in  it 
suffering  for  their  act.  That  is  why  we  are  to  be 
l)anished." 

"And  what  shall  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  shall  go  to  Asia.  I  had  intended  to  go  in  any  case, 
for  I  have  private  affairs  there,  nothing  less  important,  I 
may  tell  you  in  confidence,  than  marrying  a  wife.  Then  I 
shall  find  something  to  do  with  the  Spartans,  among  whom 
I  have  some  very  good  friends.  Come  with  me.  You  too, 
might  find  a  wife ;  that  will  be  as  you  please  ;  but  anyhow 
I  can  guarantee  you  employment." 

'*  I  confess,"  said  Callias,  after  meditating  awhile,  "  that 
T  do  not  feel  greatly  drawn  by  what  you  suggest.  As  for 
ilie  wife,  tliut  prospect  does  not  plea.se  me  at  all ;  and,  as 
you  know,  I  am  not  so  m.uch  of  a  Spartan-lover*  as  you. 

*  Thf>  Oreek  philo-lacon.  The  word  had  hccn  applied  to  Clmon,  son  of 
Milfiadex,  who  had  always  been  a  popular  statesman  and  so  might  be 
nsed  in  a  friendly  way.  If  Cullias  had  sjxiken  f)f  Xcnophon  as  disposed 
to  iflc«««.«mH*  it  would  have  been  almost  an  affront,  tiiis  word  mean- 
ing not  so  much  admiration  of  KparUm  ways  of  iifo  jvs  devotion  to 
BparUin  Interests. 


296  CALLIAS. 

You  must  let  me  think  about  it ;  you  shall  have  a  final 
answer  to-morrow." 

When  Xenophon  had  taken  leave,  Callias  went  straight 
to  Hippoeles,  and  happened  to  arrive  just  as  a  messenger 
was  leaving  the  house  with  a  note  addressed  to  himself,  and 
asking  for  an  early  visit.  Callias  related  what  he  had  just 
heard  from  Xenophon. 

"You  do  not  surprise  me.  In  fact  I  also  have  had  a 
private  intimation  from  a  member  of  the  Senate  that  this  is 
going  to  be  done,  and  it  is  exactly  the  matter  about  which  I 
wished  to  see  you.  But  tell  me,  what  does  Xenophon 
advise?" 

Callias  told  him. 

"  And  you  hesitate  about  accepting  his  offer?  " 

"Yes;  I  do  more  than  hesitate;  I  feel  more  and  more 
averse  to  it  the  more  I  think  of  it." 

"  You  are  right ;  to  take  service  with  the  Spartans  must, 
almost  of  necessity,  mean,  sooner  or  later,  some  collision 
with  your  own  country.  It  was  this  that  ruined  Alcibiades. 
If  he  could  only  have  had  patience,  he  could  have  saved 
himself  and  the  Athenians  too,  but  that  visit  to  Sparta 
ruined  both.  No  ;  I  should  advise  you  against  Xenophon's 
suggestion." 

"But  where  am  I  to  go?  I  have  thought  of  Syracuse. 
But  I  do  not  care  to  go  back  to  Dionysius.  He  was  all 
courtesy  and  kindness ;  but  I  felt  suffocated  in  the  air  of  his 
court.    And  we  never  feel  quite  safe  with  a  tyrant." 

"  I  have  thought  of  something  else  that  might  suit  you. 
I  am  going  to  start  in  a  few  days'  time  on  a  visit  to  my  own 
native  country,  not  to  Posidonia— I  could  not  bear  to  see 
the  barbarians  masters  there — but  to  Italy.  There  are  other 
Greek  cities  which  still  hold  their  own,  and  they  are  well 
worth  seeing.    You  might,  too,  if  you  choose,  pay  another 


CA  LLTAS.  2Sn 

visit  to  Eome.  You  will  at  least  have  the  advantage  of 
being  out  of  this  dismal  round  of  strife  to  which  Greece 
itself  seems  doomed.  Our  countrymen  there  have,  I  know, 
faults  of  their  own  ;  but  they  do  contrive  to  live  on  tolerably 
good  terms  with  each  other." 

The  plan  proposed  seemed' to  Qallias  to  promise  better 
tlian  any  that  he  could  think  of  and  he  accepted  the  ofTer 
with  thankfulness.  A  few  days  afterwards  he  was  gazing 
for  what  he  felt  might  well  be  the  last  time  at  the  city  of 
his  birth.  Bathed  in  the  sunshine  of  a  summer  morning 
stood  the  Acropolis,  crowned  with  its  marble  temples,  and, 
towering  above  all,  the  gigantic  statue  of  Athene  the  Cham- 
pion, her  outstretched  spear-point  flashing  in  the  light. 
What  glories  he  was  leaving  behind  him  !  What  lost  hopes, 
what  unfulfilled  aspirations  of  his  own  !  The  tears  of  no 
unmanly  emotion  were  in  his  eyes  as  he  turned  away,  but 
not  before  he  had  caught  sight  of  a  well-known  house  by 
the  harbor  of  Piraeus.  This  seemed  to  be  the  last  drop  of 
bitterness  in  his  cup.  She  had  lost  him  for  his  country's 
sake,  and  now  he  had  lost  her,  too.  He  turned  and  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Hermione  !  There  was  something 
in  her  look  which  made  his  heart  thrill ;  but  she  did  not 
give  him  time  to  speak. 

*' Callias,"  she  said,  "you  gave  up  what  you  said  was 
dear  to  me,"  and  her  blush  deepened  as  she  spoke,  "for 
Athens*  sake.    But  now — if  you  have  not  forgotten—" 

He  needed  to  hear  no  more.  The  next  moment,  careless 
of  the  eyes  of  the  old  helmsman,  he  had  clasped  her  in  his 
arms. 

"  I  can  allow  myself  to  love  the  exile,"  she  whispered  in 
his  ear. 


^  AUTHOR'S  POSTSCRIPT. 

It  is  impossible  for  the  writer  of  historical  fiction,  especi- 
ally if  he  wishes  to  suggest  to  his  readers  as  many  subjects 
of  interest  as  possible,  to  adapt  the  literary  necessities  of  his 
work  to  fit  in  with  the  actual  course  of  events.  But  he  is 
bound  to  point  out  such  departures  from  historical  accuracy 
as  he  feels  constrained  to  make.  It  is  quite  possible  that 
a  correction  may  serve  to  impress  the  real  facts  upon  his 
readers  more  deeply  than  an  originally  accurate  statement 
would  have  done.     I  therefore  append  to  my  tale  a  list  of 

COBBIGENDA. 

1.  I  was  anxious  to  include  the  Battle  of  Arglnusse  in 
my  story.  It  was  the  first  scene  in  the  last  act  of  the  great 
drama  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  At  the  same  time  I  felt 
bound,  having  made  up  my  mind  to  give  a  description  of  a 
Greek  comedy,  to  choose  the  Progs.  It  has  a  literary  interest 
such  as  no  other  Aristophanic  play  possesses,  and  it  is  at 
once  more  important  and  more  intelligible  to  a  modern 
reader.  But  to  bring  the  two  things  together  it  was  neces- 
sary to  ante-date  the  representation  of  the  play.  I  have  put 
it  in  the  year  406  B.  C.  It  really  took  place  in  405.  I  have 
also  made  the  battle  happen  somewhat  earlier  than  in  all 
probability,  it  really  did.  The  festival  of  the  Great  Dionysia, 
at  which  new  plays  were  produced,  was  celebrated  in  March. 
We  do  not  know  precisely  the  date  of  Arginusae,  but  it  is 
likely  that  it  was  later  in  the  year.  A  similar  correction 
must  be  made  about  the  embassy  of  Dionysius.  It  may 
have  taken  place  when  the  play  was  really  produced,  but  in 


CALLIAS.  299 

406  Dionysiiis  was  too  busy  with  his  war  with  Carthage  to 
think  of  such  things. 

2.  I  have  ante-dated,  this  time  by  several  years,  the  cap- 
ture of  Posidonia  by  the  native  ItaHans.  Here  again  we 
have  no  record  of  the  precise  time  ;  but  it  probably  happened 
somewhat  later  in  the  century. 

3.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  wrong  in  making  Alcibi- 
ades  escape  from  his  castle  in  Thrace  immediately  after  the 
battle  ^gos  Potami.  Plutarch  would  give  one  rather  to 
understand  that  he  fled  after  the  capture  of  Athens.  It  is 
quite  possible,  however,  that  he  recognized  the  defeat  as 
fatal  to  Athenian  influence  of  the  Thracian  coast,  and  that 
feeling  his  own  position  to  be  no  longer  tenable,  he  retired 
from  it  at  once. 

4.  I  have  taken  some  liberties  with  the  text  of  Xenophon's 
narrative.  The  trial  of  the  generals  by  their  own  soldiers, 
the  athletic  sports,  and  the  entertainment  described  in  my 
story  are  all  taken  from  the  Anabasis,  but  they  do  not  come 
so  close  together  as  I  have  found  it  convenient  to  put  them. 

5.  It  is  a  moot  point  among  historians  whether  Xeno- 
phon  returned  to  Athens  after  he  had  quitted  the  Ten 
Thousand.  Mr.  Grote  thinks  that  he  did  ;  and  his  authority 
is  perhaps  sufficient  to  shelter  such  a  humble  person  as  my- 
self. It  has  also  been  debated  whether  he  was  banished  in 
;599  or  some  years  later.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  here  I 
am  accurate. 

6.  I  need  hardly  say  that  the  Thraeian  national  song  is 
of  ray  own  invention.  Xenophon  simply  says  that  the 
Thracian  performers  wentofl'the  stage  singing  the  "Sitalces." 
That  this  was  a  song  celebrating  the  achievement  of  the 
king  of  that  hame  (for  which  see  a  classical  dictionary)  can- 
not be  doubted.  But  we  know  nothing  more  about  it,  and  I 
have  supplied  the  words. 


m)  CALL  J  AS. 

7.  It  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  the  "  diary  "  of  Callias 
is  an  invention.  To  be  quite  candid  I  do  not  think  it  was 
at  all  likely  that  a  young  soldier  would  have  kept  one,  or 
even  been  able  to  write  it  up  daily.  But  I  wanted  to  give 
some  prominent  incidents  from  Xenophon's  story,  and  had 
not  space  for  the  whole,  while  a  mere  epitome  would  have 
been  tedious. 

8.  I  must  caution  my  readers  against  supposing  my  hero 
to  be  historical.  There  was  a  Callias,  son  of  Hipponicus,  at 
this  time,  a  very  different  man. 

9.  I  have  taken  the  defence  of  Socrates  from  Plato's 
Apology^  not  from  Xenophon.  The  former  is  immeasurar 
bly  superior. 


INDEX. 


^gos  Potami,  Battle  of,  136-137. 

Agis,  1.50. 

Alciblades.  —  Home,  111  —  Appear- 
ance, 113— In  Thrace,  122— Defence, 
124-127— Farewell  to  his  Men,  138- 
141— Assassination,  173-175. 

Alien,  19-20. 

Anabasis,  The,  191-193. 

Apaturia,  The,  83. 

Arginusse,  Battle  of,  4(5-51. 

Argos,  149. 

.■Vrlseus,  192, 196. 

Bisanthe,  112, 116, 120. 

Calendar,  204. 

Callicratidas,  a5,  39-45,  57. 

Calllxenus,  85. 

Chios,  28,  51,  55. 

Chirisophus,  199, 207,  211-213, 257. 

Cimon,  46. 

Clearchus,  189-190, 192, 197. 

Cleon,  11. 

r-onon,  15-18,  ^5,  48,  56,  82. 

Cos,  35,  41. 

Critias,  266-268. 

Crito,  2ft3-26o,  267-292. 

Cunaxa,  192-193. 

(Jyrus,  43-44,  129, 140, 189-193. 

Delium,  119, 179,  262. 

Diomedon,  48-49,  52-53,  62,  82,  90. 

Dionysi  us,  181-188. 

Dress,  41^2. 

Ephors,  150, 154. 

Eupatrid,  104, 161. 

Euryptolemus.  86,  88,  90-91. 

Games.— President,  221— F'oot  Races, 
222-22:?— The  PenUithlon,  223-229— 
Horse  Race,  229-230. 

Oordium,  142. 

Government. —  Public  Guests,  60— 
Popular  Trials,  82-92, 263-276— The 
Bema,  86  —  Balloting,  92  — The 
Eleven,  85,  282-Capital  Punish- 
ment, 94. 

Hellespont,  17, 109. 

Hippocrates,  242. 

Houses.— Arrangement,  27, 30— Serv- 
ants, 27— Cloclts,  112. 

Hunting,  120-121. 

I-ysander,  51, 129-131, 149-151, 156. 

Marathon,  2A,  52,  158, 160. 

Medical  Science,  2-13,  244,  246-249. 

Mitylcne,  15-17,  39,  48, 53,  56,  82. 

Money,  42, 114,  219,  232,  2o7. 

Navy,  46,  47, 49. 

Nicias,  (Sii,  12«. 

Notium,  23,  25. 

f  Enophyta,  60,  62. 

Oligarchy,  54,  84. 

Omens,  197,  198,  200. 

Painting,  116. 

Panathenaea,  The,  24. 

Pausanias,  40, 156. 

Persians,  2,  43,  141,  196,-296. 

Phaedo,  26;},  282-292. 

Pharnabazus,  140-142, 173. 


Phormion,  47. 

Plato,  185,  275. 

Posidonia,  20,  21,  22. 

Potidsea,  118. 

Proxenus,  190,  196, 198. 

Retreat  of  Ten  Thousand,  194-217— 
Murder  of  Generals,  196— Xeno- 
phon  in  Command,  198 — Plan  of 
March,  200-201  — First  Skirmish, 
201 — Cavalry  Organized,  202 — Ban- 
queting in  Villages,  211-212— Tak- 
ing a  Pass,  213-214  — The  Sea 
Reached,  216— At  Trapezus,  217, 
218— Return  to  Greece,  256-260. 

Sacrifices,  220-221. 

Sailing  Season,  109. 

Samos,  66. 

Seuthes,  121-122, 139,  259-260. 

Siege  of  Athens,  148-156. 

Smyrna.  172. 

Social  Life.— Calls,  30,64— Knock- 
ing, 30— At  Table,  31, 114-115— Ban- 
quets, 60,  64-71,  2:^7-210— Rhapso- 
dist,  65— Dancers,  67, 2^-240— Colo- 
nial Society,  123— Hospitality,  219. 

Socrates.— Conversations  75-78r--Re- 
fusal  to  Sanction  Illegal  Motion, 
89— Conduct  during  the  Siege,  152- 
15:?— Trial,  2(i:i-277— Defence,  270- 
277— In  Prison, 282-292 — Argument 
for  Immoi'tality,  285 — Death,  291- 
292. 

Sybaris,  20, 23. 

Syracuse,  28,  47, 126, 179-184. 

Tarsus,  191. 

Ten  Generals,  The.— The  System, 
51— The  Trial,  82-83,  86-92— Plots, 
84-85— The  Verdict,  92— Punish- 
ment, 94. 

Theatre,  The.— The  Curtain,  2— 
"  The  Frogs,"  3-11— Aristophanes, 
10— Old  Comedy  and  New,  11— 
The  -Audience,  11-12 — Arrange- 
ment, 14 — Author  as  Prompter,  15. 

Theramenes,  54,  81,  98, 150, 153. 

Thirty  Tyrants,  2;5;?.  266,  273. 

Thracians.— Intemperance.  115— Ex- 
travagance, 12;i-124— Strength,  142. 

Thrasybulus,  54,  81,90. 

Tissaphernes,  1!K>,  204-205. 

Town  Hall,  15,  60. 

Walls,  The  Long,  100. 1'X). 

Warfare.- Armor,  192— A  rchers,202. 
Cavalry,  202-20;?— Mercenaries,  20t). 

Women.— In  Lucania,  21— At  Table, 
31— Wine  Drinking,  ;?2— Depend- 
ence, 75-78-MiUTiage,  1()4-167. 

Xenophon.- .\t  the  Banijuct,  71— 
Describes  Socrates,  7;?-74  —  Ex- 
plains the  Expedition  against 
the  Great  King,  189-190— Ejected 
General,  198 — Reproves  a  Soldier, 
206— Energv,  209  -  210  —  Repartee 
with  Chirisophus,  212-213— An- 
swers Charges,  233-237. 


DATE  DUE 

- 

GAYLORD 

PRINTED  IN  U.S.A. 

